


Adopted Son

by KathyG



Category: Zorro (TV 1990)
Genre: Adoption, Aristocracy, California, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyG/pseuds/KathyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This four-part story is a sequel to Zorro: A Conspiracy of Blood, a made-for-video movie comprising the 4 fourth-season episodes ("The Arrival," "Death and Taxes," "Conundrum," and "The Discovery") that ended the series.  At the same time that Felipe makes the transition from servant boy to de la Vega, he must deal with some painful memories from his early childhood.  Can he let go of his past and help a new friend?  Can Zorro save him from being hung as the Masked Avenger's accomplice?  And can Zorro and Felipe save Los Angeles from a gang of ruthless revolutionaries?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Legend Concludes

Seven-year-old Felipe Cortez clutched the side of the pushcart. His mother and father pushed it as other peasants rushed past them. Rifle shots, cannon blasts, shouts, and terrified screams hurt his ears. Thick clouds of dust, caused by the cannon blasts, drifted everywhere he looked and choked him. 

Suddenly, a government soldier appeared in front. He aimed a rifle straight at Felipe. _"No!"_ the boy's mother screamed. " _Por favor,_ don't hurt my son!" 

"Felipe?" A familiar cultured male voice broke in. "Felipe, wake up! You're having a bad dream." 

_Mamá!_ Felipe, thought, whimpering. _Mamá!_ He shot up in bed and stared wildly around the bedroom, then squeezed his eyes shut in terror. In his mind's eye, he could see that soldier cocking his rifle and aiming it at him and his parents. 

The mattress sagged and creaked as someone sat down on it. Arms clasped Felipe to a man's chest and hugged him for a long moment, rocking him. "It's all right, _amigo,_ you're safe. You're awake, now. It's all over." The kind voice soothed and comforted him. 

Felipe leaned back and looked around. He was not a seven-year-old boy in Mexico, trying to flee for his life; he was a 17-year-old young man in his room at the de la Vega _hacienda_ , and it was the _siesta_ hour. He gazed at his _patrón_ , Don Diego de la Vega, as the _caballero_ hugged him once more. 

"Was it the same nightmare?" Don Diego asked gently. Felipe nodded and shuddered. "You've been dreaming about that time quite a bit, as of late." Felipe nodded again. 

Don Diego squeezed his shoulder. "It sounds to me as if the memories you've blocked out all these years are trying to come out." 

Felipe shuddered again. _I don't want to remember that time,_ he thought. _I don't want to remember any more than I already do. It hurts every time I remember something new. It hurts so bad, I just feel like I want to die!_ He pressed his fingertips on the navy-blue satin quilt. The afternoon sunshine poured in between the heavy silk drapes in the window. 

The de la Vegas were enormously wealthy, influential _caballeros_ , the most important family in southern California. They lived in a beautiful, elegant _hacienda_ two miles west of Los Angeles, and their fruitful land consisted of thousands of acres. Felipe, a young mute orphan who used to be deaf, had worked for them as an indentured servant since he was seven years old, after his parents had been killed in one of the last battles of the revolution. The trauma had robbed Felipe of his speech and his hearing; when he was 13, his ability to hear had been miraculously restored. 

Unable to bear the trauma of that terrible time, Felipe had blocked out the memory of it. In fact, for the past 10 years, Felipe had blocked out his whole early life, unable to remember more than very little of it all. He hadn't even been able to remember the names of his parents, or his own last name. He had been known only as Felipe. 

He had started to remember his early life when he had considered joining the army and a gang of killers had stalked him. He had since learned that he had once lived in San Miguel de Bajio, a _pueblo_ in central Mexico, and that his parents' names were Juan and Consuela Cortez. He had gotten re-acquainted with his kind godfather, Paco Lopez, and Paco's orphaned nephew, Rafael, when they had come to Los Angeles to live; his godfather had died a few months later. In recent months, since Don Diego's announcement that he was going to adopt Felipe, the boy had remembered more and more. And with the remembering came intense emotional pain--pain so consuming, he couldn't stand it. Each time that happened, one of his _patróns_ would hold him tightly and comfort him until the intensity of the pain subsided. 

Seeing the pain etched on the boy's face, Don Diego embraced him once again. "It hurts deeply to remember, doesn't it, _amigo_?" Felipe nodded. "Why don't I sit here with you for a while?" Felipe nodded gratefully. 

Don Diego smiled comfortingly as Felipe lay down on the bed mattress. "I'll say this, _amigo_ : if your mother could see you now, she'd be proud of you." Felipe smiled wanly and made a gesture. Don Diego took his hand. 

"I know." Don Diego squeezed the boy's hand. "You know, Felipe, you need to mourn your parents' deaths. You've never had a real chance to do that, before." 

Felipe winced. Such mourning would open up his old wounds, he was sure, and the result would be a life-threatening hemorrhage. He didn't want to hurt inside any more than he was already doing. 

Don Diego smiled again and changed the subject. "Just think, Felipe! In a short time, you're going to be my son. When Victoria and I get married, you will have a mother and a father once more. And with Victoria's brothers, Francisco and Ramon, back in Los Angeles, you'll have two uncles as well. You will be a servant no longer." 

Felipe smiled at the prospect. Don Diego had been like a father to him for years. To have his beloved _patrón_ as his father for real, and to have Victoria for his mother and her brothers for his uncles, would be wonderful. Francisco and Ramon Escalante had recently returned to Los Angeles to live, and Ramon and his sister Victoria were operating the tavern together. Francisco, for his part, was trying to decide whether to stay in Los Angeles or move elsewhere. 

Don Diego had announced his decision to adopt Felipe back in early June, on the day Emissary Gilberto Risendo had been shot to death by the _alcalde_. Risendo had ostensibly been sent by the king to collect a special war tax; in reality, he had come to Los Angeles to destroy the de la Vegas, whom he and his foster mother had hated. Not until just before Risendo's death did the de la Vegas learn that Don Gilberto was Don Diego's twin brother, born as the elder twin only to be kidnapped by their mother's evil, vindictive midwife, Ynez Risendo. 

Ynez had raised Don Gilberto and filled him with hatred for the de la Vegas. For her role in the crimes the emissary had committed, the _alcalde_ had arrested her and sent her back to Spain, to stand trial for kidnapping and attempted murder. The discovery that Don Gilberto was a de la Vega had devastated the two other de la Vegas, especially Don Alejandro. 

_Will my being adopted heal Don Alejandro and Don Diego's wounds?_ Felipe wondered silently, as he gazed at Don Diego. _And will it heal mine?_

Felipe thought about the days Señor Risendo had spent in Los Angeles. He remembered the ruthlessness Señor Risendo had exhibited...the cruelty and stone-cold hate in his eyes...his attempt to execute the _alcalde_ for no good reason...his and Lieutenant Hidalgo's mistreatment of Felipe during the mercifully short time the two men had obtained control of the de la Vega _hacienda_ and driven the de la Vegas out...and his last-ditch effort to murder Don Alejandro and Don Diego, in the hope of obtaining their lands and money. What a relief it was, to know that Don Gilberto Risendo could never again hurt any of them! 

He expressed his thoughts to Don Diego, who nodded and pursed his lips. "Those were terrible days for us all, Felipe." He sighed. "I hurt inside, myself, when I think about my brother, Gilberto Risendo. We all have wounds we need to heal of, Felipe. And we need to comfort one another, in the meantime." Felipe nodded agreement. 

Suddenly, an unpleasant thought occurred to the boy. Don Diego watched him as he signed a remark. Don Diego sighed. 

"I know, _amigo_. I, too, thought the _alcalde_ would change." He sighed again and shook his head. "At first, it looked as if he would, didn't it? But once the aftermath of Risendo's visit wore off, he reverted to his old ways. At least, so far, he has not imprisoned anyone unjustly, so maybe something of that terrible time did leave a permanent mark on de Soto. But he still taxes the people unjustly. It wouldn't take much to provoke him into oppressing us again. Zorro is still needed; he can't lay aside the mask yet." Felipe pursed his lips at the thought. 

The polished mahogany door swung open; a thirteen-year-old boy stepped inside. "Don Diego?" the boy said. "When do you want me to bring the carriage?" Don Diego glanced at his gold timepiece. 

"Now, Sergio. We'll be out there, soon." Sergio smiled and left. 

Felipe grinned at Don Diego, who chuckled. "You know, Felipe, Sergio is learning his new duties nicely." Felipe nodded agreement. "He works hard and learns fast, just as you always have. You've done an excellent job of training him, these past four months." Felipe smiled and nodded, then sat up. 

Sergio Esperanza was an orphan who had lived at the mission since he was born. His father had died before he was born, and his mother had died in childbirth at the church. Since Sergio had no living relatives, the church had taken him under its wing and raised him. 

In recent months, Don Diego had taken a personal interest in Sergio. Several months before, Sergio had fallen seriously ill, and had expressed a strong yearning to ride with Zorro. Don Diego had learned of his wish from Victoria Escalante, the tavern owner, and had ridden as Zorro to take Sergio to his secret cave. There, because Dr. Hernandez had been out of town at the time, Zorro had studied the boy's disease and prepared a medicine that had enabled the boy's body to fight back. 

Shortly after the boy's recovery, Zorro had taken Sergio for a long ride on Toronado. Since then, Zorro had visited the boy at the church on several occasions, and had taken him on two more rides. Not only that, Don Diego had visited Sergio frequently as himself, and had often taken Felipe and Don Alejandro with him. The three had developed a strong friendship with the boy. 

In July, the de la Vegas had hired Sergio to serve them as an indentured servant, training to replace Felipe as their houseboy. Being an orphan himself, Felipe had an affinity with Sergio. The two boys worked together and often played together. Felipe was like a big brother to Sergio, who looked up to him. When Felipe's adoption was finalized, Sergio would replace him officially. 

_It's been four months since Don Alejandro hired Sergio to take my place,_ Felipe thought, scratching his arm. _Soon, he will know everything expected of him, and I'll be out of a job._

Don Diego smiled. "Very soon, Felipe, I'm going to let Sergio in on Zorro's secret." 

Felipe asked, via gestures, whether Sergio would be safe if he did. 

"He will be as safe as my father has been if he keeps his mouth shut, and he well knows how to do that. I've tried him repeatedly since my father hired him, and he's proven to my satisfaction his ability to keep a secret. He loves Zorro too much to betray him. At any rate, he needs to know Zorro's secret so he can take over your cave duties." 

Felipe asked if Sergio would also replace him as Zorro's spy. 

Don Diego shook his head. "No, Felipe. Nor will he replace you as Zorro's assistant. Since everyone knows that Sergio can hear, it would be too dangerous a burden to put on him. As long as Zorro is needed, Felipe, you will spy for him whenever the need arises, and you and Sergio will help him in other ways." 

Felipe smiled, relieved. He was willing to let Sergio take over his cave duties, but he really didn't want to be replaced as Zorro's spy or as his assistant. 

Felipe then asked if Don Diego had plans to adopt Sergio as well. Don Diego shook his head. 

"Much as I would like to, Felipe, I cannot adopt every orphan in Los Angeles. Not even every orphan we take in to work for us." Don Diego smiled ruefully. "But that doesn't mean Sergio won't have a father's love and guidance. My father and I will give him those things, Felipe, just as we've always given them to you." 

Felipe asked if Don Diego was going to tutor Sergio. Again, Don Diego shook his head. 

"When Sergio graduated from the mission school, last spring, and was confirmed, he had done quite well in every course the school had offered. Reading, writing, spelling, grammar, arithmetic; Spanish and colonial history and geography; the catechism and the Bible; and the various crafts the school teaches. I've talked with him, Felipe, and he does not wish to study any more. My father and I have decided to honor his wishes. When his indenture's up, he wants to buy a farm and settle down; he will be 25, then. He will save up the money as he works. In the meantime, I will teach him swordsmanship. Zorro promised him that, when he was sick." 

Felipe offered to give Sergio the money he, himself, had saved through the years. Don Diego smiled approvingly. 

"Felipe, I think that's a fine idea. Now that you're going to be my son and heir, our money will be your money, so you will no longer need your wages. Sergio will appreciate your gift." Felipe smiled back. 

Don Diego squeezed the boy's shoulder. "And you, Felipe, will make a fine lawyer, someday--after you've graduated from Madrid University and taken your Grand Tour of Europe, that is. And you're not only an excellent shot, you're well on your way to becoming a master swordsman. Someday, you _will_ be one; you have the eye for it, the necessary agility, the quick reflexes, and the steady nerves required. Now that you know how to use a foil, an epee, and a rapier, I'll start teaching you to fence with a saber." Felipe's brown eyes shone with delight at the thought. 

"I might add that you're quite an artist and musician, too. You play the piano, the guitar, and the bugle excellently, and your pictures and statues are very good. Soon, _amigo,_ I'll start giving you violin lessons." Felipe smiled at the prospect. "And I will teach you some ballroom dances. You're already quite proficient in the folk dances and the waltz; now you need to learn some elegant ballroom dances." Felipe nodded his acquiescence. 

The two stood up and went to the drawing room to wait for the carriage. Don Diego's boots and Felipe's woven-leather sandals clicked on the gleaming marble floor as they strode down the hall. When they entered the drawing room, they found Don Alejandro waiting for them. 

"Good news!" Don Alejandro rose to his feet, clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled broadly. "Don Luis Piscola just arrived on the coach, and he's taken a room at the tavern. He's going to draw up the adoption papers after we meet with him. While Felipe and Sergio pick up some things for us, Diego, we'll meet with Don Luis, you and I. He's waiting for us in the tavern." 

He smiled at Felipe affectionately. "No one knows the law better than Don Luis. He's ideally suited to draw up the adoption papers." Don Alejandro rested his hand on Felipe's shoulder. "Soon, _amigo,_ you will be my first grandson." His eyes shone at the thought, and Felipe grinned. 

Don Diego smiled, in his turn, and put an arm around Felipe's shoulders. "You know, Felipe, you will be blessed to have a good man like my father for your grandfather." 

Don Alejandro chuckled. "I'm the one who's blessed, my son. Not only to know that this fine young man will soon be my first grandson, but also to know that you, my son, are Zorro." He shook his head. "You did a good job fooling everyone--including your own father! And how you managed to teach this young man to play musical instruments and handle a sword--without anyone knowing--is beyond me!" 

Diego grimaced. "I had to, to keep you safe from the _alcalde_. Even now, I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing in telling you. At least, I don't have to keep Felipe's lessons in music and swordsmanship a secret from you and Victoria, anymore." 

Don Alejandro touched his son's arm. "Diego, don't worry about me. I can keep a secret as well as Felipe. Are you going to tell Sergio, soon? And Victoria?" 

Don Diego nodded. "Sergio, yes. As for Victoria, I'll tell her when it's safe to." He smiled. "You know, Father, if it hadn't been for you, there would have been no Zorro. You taught me with your words and example to care about people, and to fight for justice." 

Don Alejandro smiled his appreciation. Sergio entered the room and announced the carriage was ready. The de la Vegas and Felipe followed him out the door. "Look at the scenery, Diego, boys." Don Alejandro sighed with contentment. "So sunny, so clean!" 

"It certainly is!" Don Diego strode toward the carriage. A cool breeze wafted around him, his father, and the boys. 

**ZZZZZZZ**

At the _cuartel_ , Don Ignacio de Soto, _alcalde_ of Los Angeles, sat at his desk, reading _The Prince_ , by Niccolo Machiavelli. For a moment, he paused to think about the reasons for which he had gotten himself appointed _alcalde_. 

He pursed his lips and slammed the book down. When he first came to Los Angeles, he had hoped to be promoted in a few months, for he was a man of high ambition. Instead, he had been stuck in Los Angeles for two years, and a promotion seemed further off now than it had ever been. Worse, he had nearly been executed five months before, by Don Gilberto Risendo! 

_It's all Zorro's fault, too,_ he thought, bitterly. _He's thwarted me time and again! If it hadn't been for him, I would have been back in Spain, long ago, and that madman Risendo wouldn't have tried to kill me._

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" he said. 

Sergeant Mendoza and Corporal Sepulveda entered the office. "Excuse me, _mi alcalde,_ but there's a _caballero_ outside who wants to see you. He says he's an emissary from the king." Mendoza brushed back a stray hair as he spoke. 

The _alcalde_ straightened up in a hurry and groaned. Not another emissary! After his experiences with the last one--Don Gilberto Risendo--he did not want to see any more emissaries for a good long time! Nevertheless, he knew he had no choice but to welcome the man. Maybe this one would be better than Risendo had been. 

He sighed. "Show him in, Mendoza." The sergeant saluted and stepped outside. "Sepulveda!" The corporal stood at attention. "Go after the lancers I sent on patrol, and tell them to return." 

_"Si, mi alcalde!"_ Corporal Sepulveda saluted and strode out the door. 

A distinguished-looking gentleman who wore a pale-green frock coat and trousers, a snow-white silk shirt, a dark-green velvet vest, and a white silk cravat entered the room. He held a coal-black top hat in one hand and a rolled-up parchment in the other. "I am Don Paco de la Fernandez, emissary to his Majesty." He handed the parchment to the _alcalde_. 

De Soto unrolled and read the parchment, then rose to his feet. He circled his desk and held out his hand in welcome. "This is indeed an honor, emissary!" He handed the emissary the parchment. "I wish you had given me some advance warning so I could have prepared you a proper welcome. Won't you sit down?" 

The emissary nodded without smiling, and sat down. De Soto perched behind his desk. "What can I do for you?" 

Don Paco leaned forward. "I'm afraid you won't like what I have to tell you, _señor_." The _alcalde_ frowned. "The king has been informed of your crimes and malfeasance, Don Ignacio. Since he himself appointed you, he is most embarrassed that you have abused your position in this manner. He has sent me with orders to bring you back to Spain, to stand trial." 

The _alcalde_ froze. His mouth dropped open; he gaped at Don Paco. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me!" The emissary looked stern. "And I suggest you get your affairs in order, for you will soon be under arrest!" 

De Soto pursed his lips together. "These charges you speak of are all lies!" 

Don Paco shook his head. "The king has all the proof he needs, and then some. He's been investigating you for the past several months. He even sent one of his own associates to investigate the charges personally. Don Francisco de la Calderon, Duke of La Mancha." 

The _alcalde_ leaned back in his chair and groaned. Don Francisco de la Calderon! He remembered the assassin who had followed the duke to Los Angeles to kill him and his family, months before. He had sought the _alcalde's_ permission; the _alcalde_ had granted it in return for the killer's promise of a promotion. 

The plot had backfired. Not only had the assassin failed in his mission, Don Francisco had discovered de Soto's collusion with the _bandido_ and forced him to imprison the man. _If he's told the king that I pardoned the killer--!_ De Soto shuddered. 

"Yes, you may well shudder." Don Paco glared at the _alcalde_. "Public officials who oppress and exploit the people they govern for political gain--and who plot to murder officials sent to them by the king--are common criminals and deserve to be treated as such. Yes, Don Francisco told the king of your collusion with the assassin who stalked him. The king is very angry with you, _señor_." 

Don Paco rose to his feet. "One other thing. Don't hire any _bandidos_ to murder _me_ ; I am a good friend of the king, too. My life is to be held as sacred as the king's would be, or yours will be forfeit. Cooperate, and you _might_ get no more than a demotion and a jail term following your trial. Cross me, and you shall die right here by firing squad. I have brought with me some top members of his Majesty's army who have orders to kill you if any attempts are made on my life." He left the office. 

For several minutes, the _alcalde_ sat in his chair, stunned. This was the worst possible news! He pressed his lips into a thin line of rage. 

"This is Zorro's fault!" The _alcalde_ chewed his lower lip. "He did this to me! Well, he's going to pay for this!" 

He rose to his feet, shoved back his chair, and stormed outside. He marched to the tavern, where he found Victoria sweeping the terrace and chatting with Ramon and Francisco. 

" _Señorita,_ you're under arrest!" 

Victoria and her brothers gaped at him in shock. "For _what_?!" Victoria set the broom against the _adobe_ wall. 

"For collusion with the bandit, Zorro!" He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the _cuartel_ ; her brothers followed, protesting her arrest. On the way, de Soto almost ran into Felipe, who stepped aside and gaped in shock. The _alcalde_ shoved Victoria into the office and slammed the door on Ramon and Francisco. The two Escalante men stormed back to the tavern. 

**ZZZZZZZ**

Felipe led his pinto pony, Parche, toward the _cuartel_. As the pony drank out of the trough, Felipe stood next to the window and listened. "Lancer, take Victoria to the jail and lock her up!" he overheard the _alcalde_ say. 

A minute later, the _alcalde_ talked to himself. "I shall set a trap for tonight, for when Zorro comes. And Zorro will come tonight; I'm sure of that. Well, that Zorro has thwarted me for the last time! He shall pay for what's being done to me, and Señorita Escalante with him!" 

Felipe felt furious. How could the _alcalde_ do this to Victoria?! He _had_ to be stopped! 

Felipe grabbed his pony's reins and led it toward the tavern. A few seconds later, he found the de la Vegas sitting at a table inside and told them what had just happened. 

Don Diego pressed his lips into a tight line. "Go back to the _hacienda_ and get Zorro's things," he said, in a low voice. "Saddle Toronado, too, and bring him as well. Zorro will rescue Victoria this afternoon, before the _alcalde_ has an opportunity to set up his trap." 

Don Alejandro rose to his feet. "I'll go with him, son, and help him." Grim-faced, he followed Felipe out of the tavern. 

Don Alejandro and Felipe returned to the _hacienda_ and entered the secret cave where Zorro kept his things. While Felipe saddled the coal-black stallion, Don Alejandro gathered Zorro's costume, rope, saber, and whip. Felipe then raced out to the stable to saddle Parche. Minutes later, Don Alejandro met Felipe outside the cave and handed him Toronado's reins. 

Don Alejandro remained at the _hacienda_ while Felipe took Toronado to town. Leaving the stallion and Parche behind the tavern, Felipe entered the dining room via the kitchen. He found Don Diego sitting at a table in the back. 

Felipe approached him and sat down. "Did you bring Zorro's things?" Don Diego whispered. Felipe nodded. " _Gracias._ Did my father stay home?" Felipe nodded again. "Wait here, then." Don Diego left through the kitchen entrance. 

Don Diego hid behind the tavern and changed into his Zorro costume. He then mounted Toronado and circled the town. Minutes later, he approached the back of the _cuartel_. His plan was to catch the _alcalde_ off guard. 

To his relief, there were no soldiers nearby. Apparently, the _alcalde_ had sent them all out on patrol. He climbed to the top of the red-tile roof and entered the jail through the skylight. To his left, Victoria sat slumped on the cot against the wall. 

Victoria's face lit up when she saw him. Her bright-red skirt swished as she leaped to her feet. "Zorro!" She rushed to the cell door and grabbed two of the iron bars. 

Zorro put a finger to his lips. He lifted the key ring off its nail and unlocked the cell door. "Come," he whispered. "We'll go through the _alcalde's_ office. I need to discourage him from trying this stunt again." 

Victoria nodded. She followed Zorro to the door that opened into the _alcalde's_ office. Zorro grasped the doorknob and slowly twisted it. He led the way into the office. 

The _alcalde_ stood with his back to Zorro and Victoria, pouring a crystal goblet of wine. Zorro sneaked behind him and tapped his shoulder. When the _alcalde_ whirled around, his face froze in shock. Before he could call out, Zorro unsheathed his Toledo-steel saber and held its tip against the _alcalde's_ chest. 

"Unwise idea, _alcalde,_ " Zorro hissed. "Now, listen to what I have to say." Zorro's eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips together. "Trouble the _señorita_ again, and I will run you through! From now on, you leave her alone!" He pressed the tip of his saber against the _alcalde's_ chest. _"Comprende?"_

Glaring fiercely, the _alcalde_ nodded reluctantly. Zorro carved a Z in the lapel of the _alcalde's_ coat, then punched his face so hard the _alcalde_ slumped to the floor, unconscious. Zorro led Victoria outside and escorted her to the tavern porch. 

"I'd better go before the lancers return." Zorro whistled; when Toronado galloped forward, Felipe appeared on the porch. _"Adios."_ Zorro rode away as the crowd cheered. 

Several minutes later, back in the _alcalde's_ office, de Soto groaned as he regained consciousness. Clutching his head with his left hand, he slowly sat up. "That Zorro!" he groaned, rising to his feet. He leaned against the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. De Soto pressed his lips into a thin line of rage. "I'll get that Zorro if it's the last thing I do!" He winced as his head throbbed. "How on earth did he find out so quickly?" 

Hooves clomped outside his door. The lancers must have returned from their patrol. Sepulveda and Mendoza entered the room. "Sepulveda, when you were leaving the _plaza_ , did you see anyone near the _cuartel_?" The _alcalde_ sat down behind his desk. 

"Only the de la Vega servant boy, Felipe. He was watering his horse in the trough." Sepulveda scratched his neck. 

"Oh." The _alcalde_ waved his hand. "You may go, now." The corporal left. 

De Soto suddenly froze. "Watering his horse!" he repeated. "Felipe almost ran into me when I escorted Victoria here to the _cuartel_." As he paused to ponder that, Mendoza stood at attention as he did, but gazed at his commanding officer curiously. 

The _alcalde_ pursed his lips together. "You know, sergeant--do you realize that on most of the occasions Zorro came to rescue someone from me, Felipe was here first?" 

Mendoza looked puzzled. "So many people have been here on all those occasions. There's usually a lot of people here, _alcalde_." 

The _alcalde_ waved impatiently. " _Si, si,_ but most of those people have not been here on almost every occasion! There _is_ one person, though, who has. Felipe!" He rose to his feet. "Felipe is _Zorro_!" 

Sergeant Mendoza stared at him. "But--but, _alcalde,_ Felipe could not be Zorro. He's a deaf-mute!" 

The _alcalde_ sighed. "Sergeant, what better disguise than for a masked bandit to masquerade as a deaf-mute when he's not riding as Zorro?" 

Mendoza shook his head. "Even if Zorro _were_ to do that, Felipe could not." 

"Why not?!" the _alcalde_ asked roughly. 

"Because Felipe was just a young boy when Zorro first began to ride. Thirteen years old! Zorro was a man when he made his first appearance. He had a man's voice and a man's skills." 

Chagrined, de Soto sank into his desk chair. Mendoza was right. _I should have realized,_ he thought ruefully. 

A moment later, he straightened up. "Felipe may not be Zorro, sergeant, but he's surely in league with Zorro." He paused. "Sergeant, arrest Felipe and bring him in for questioning!" 

Sergeant Mendoza winced. " _Alcalde,_ Don Alejandro and Don Diego--might not approve." 

Ignoring him, the _alcalde_ stood up and trudged toward the window. As he pressed his nose against the cool, smooth glass, he saw Felipe strolling from the church toward the _plaza_. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he marched out of the office and hurried after the boy. 

He caught up with Felipe just as Felipe neared the tavern porch. "Felipe," de Soto said, grimly, "you are under arrest for collusion with the bandit Zorro, and for aiding him in his efforts to block justice!" 

Felipe froze. He gaped at the _alcalde_ in shock. He held up his hands in protest, to indicate that he didn't know what the _alcalde_ was talking about. 

De Soto smiled grimly. "I think you know very well what I'm talking about, _muchacho_! You really had my predecessor and me fooled, but not any more! As Zorro's accomplice, you're under arrest. You're coming with me!" 

He grabbed Felipe's arm and dragged the boy toward the _cuartel_ , as the people milling around watched. Felipe looked back at the tavern and saw Victoria standing in the doorway, staring at him in shock, anger, and pity. 

**ZZZZZZZ**

"The _alcalde_ has done _what_?!" Don Diego gaped at Victoria in shock. "He has arrested _Felipe_?!" 

Victoria nodded. The de la Vegas stared at her, then at each other as they perched on the couch in the drawing room. 

"For collusion with Zorro, the _alcalde_ said; for being his accomplice." Victoria gripped the arms of the silk brocade chair she sat in. Her face was red with anger. Don Alejandro clenched both hands tightly, and Don Diego pressed his lips into a tight, thin line. 

Victoria glanced out the window and sighed. "If you'll excuse me, I promised Ramon I'd show him my account books and let him study them. I have to go." 

Don Alejandro rose to his feet. "Thank you so much for coming out and telling us." Victoria and Don Diego stood up, and Victoria left. 

Don Alejandro looked at his son. "Well, Diego, what are you going to do?" 

Don Diego sighed. "The only thing I can do. Ride as Zorro tonight, and rescue Felipe." 

"Be careful, son," Don Alejandro warned him. "This may be a trap for Zorro. I do not want you caught in it." 

"Thank you, Father." Don Diego touched his father's arm. "But if I'm going to save him, that's the chance I must take. Rest assured, I will take every possible precaution." Don Alejandro nodded, satisfied. 

The elderly _caballero_ shook his head. "De Soto is a wicked, corrupt man." He clenched his fists as he spoke. "And Felipe is a fine young man--too fine to be imprisoned in the _alcalde's_ jail!" 

"I agree, and I'm going to do something about it. In the meantime, Father, I need Sergio." Don Diego scratched the back of his head. "I think it's time Sergio knew Zorro's secret. I will need his help." 

Don Alejandro nodded and left the room. A few minutes later, Sergio entered the drawing room. "Your father said you wanted to see me, Don Diego." 

Don Diego nodded. "Sergio, Felipe's been arrested by the _alcalde_ himself." 

Sergio froze. "Why?" 

"The _alcalde_ has accused him of being Zorro's accomplice." 

Sergio swallowed hard. He shook his head. "Can--can Zorro save him?" 

Don Diego rested a hand on Sergio's shoulder. "Zorro certainly means to try, Sergio. Come with me, now; it's time you knew a secret only my father and Felipe and I know." 

He led Sergio to the fireplace in the library and pressed the secret lever. Sergio gaped as the secret door swung open. "Let's go inside." Don Diego gave Sergio a little push, then followed him into the secret cave. 

Sergio gaped at the science equipment, then stared at Zorro's things. "This--this is the same cave Zorro brought me to, when I was so sick!" He stared at Don Diego and pointed at him. "Are--are _you_ Zorro?" 

Don Diego chuckled. "Yes, Sergio. I am. I wouldn't tell you whom Zorro really was when you were sick, but I am telling you, now. From now on, you and Felipe are going to help Zorro, together. And soon, _amigo,_ I will give you fencing lessons just as Zorro promised." 

Sergio grinned broadly. "I get to help Zorro, _patrón_? I'm going to learn to fence?" 

Don Diego nodded, an amused smile tracing his face. He then looked serious, and grasped the boy's shoulder. "Sergio, I want you to promise me something. You must _never_ , at _any_ time, for _any_ reason, tell _anyone_ who Zorro is. If you do, the _alcalde_ will have us all arrested and hung, including yourself." Don Diego held up his finger for emphasis. "Do I have your promise, Sergio?" 

Sergio nodded. "I will never, never tell--unless _you_ say I can. That's a promise, Don Diego." 

Don Diego smiled. "Good boy." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Until now, _amigo,_ it's been Felipe's job to take care of Toronado and to keep this cave clean. From now on, that job will be yours. When Zorro frees Felipe, Zorro will tell him." 

_"Si, patrón."_

Don Diego glanced at Toronado. "Now, I think I'll re-introduce you to Toronado." He led Sergio down the steps into the tunnel. 

"Toronado, you remember Sergio." Don Diego patted Toronado's flanks. Sergio ran his hand over Toronado's face; the stallion sniffed Sergio for a long moment, then nuzzled the boy's hand. 

"Toronado, from this time forth, Sergio is going to take care of you." Don Diego rubbed Toronado's neck. "Don't give him any trouble, all right?" Toronado shook his head from side to side as if he understood. With a chuckle, Don Diego turned to Sergio. "All right, _amigo,_ saddle Toronado." 

While Sergio saddled the black stallion, Don Diego wrote a note to his father. When Sergio was finished, he approached his _patrón_. Don Diego folded the note and handed it to Sergio. "Sergio, if Zorro doesn't get back by two o' clock in the morning, wake my father and give him this message." Sergio nodded. "And now, I must put on Zorro's costume." Don Diego unbuttoned his fine linen shirt as he spoke. 

**ZZZZZZZ**

"Felipe, who is Zorro?" The _alcalde_ stood in front of Felipe as he spoke. "Tell me!" 

Felipe just sat still and looked at him blankly. The _alcalde_ glared at him for a long moment. The sun had set an hour before, so candles and lamps lit the office. 

"Don't play the fool with me, boy!" de Soto warned. "Somehow, you've been helping Zorro--I don't know how. That means you know who he is. Tell me his name!" 

Felipe looked bewildered. He pointed to his ears, then his mouth, to indicate that he could not answer the _alcalde's_ question. 

"Felipe!" The _alcalde_ grabbed the boy by the ear. "If you do not cooperate, you will be flogged at dawn!" Felipe winced in pain as the _alcalde_ dug his fingernails into Felipe's earlobe. 

Someone knocked on the front door. Letting go of Felipe's ear, the _alcalde_ strode toward the door and opened it. "What is it, sergeant?" 

Felipe sat slumped, staring down at the desk and rubbing his throbbing earlobe. He listened carefully as the two men spoke. 

"The lancers are hidden all over the _plaza_ , _mi alcalde_. The whole garrison." 

Felipe struggled to make no reaction. He gazed down at his lap and rubbed the fingers of his left hand. 

"Good. When Zorro comes to rescue Felipe, we'll have him." The _alcalde_ chuckled. "Return to your post, sergeant." 

_"Si, mi alcalde."_

The door slammed shut; the _alcalde_ returned to his desk. "Lancer!" A soldier opened the door that led into the jail. "Lancer, return the prisoner to his cell." The lancer took hold of Felipe's arm and led him back into the jail. The window in the boy's jail cell faced the _cuartel_ courtyard. 

As the lancer locked Felipe in his cell, Felipe stood and watched. As soon as the lancer had left, Felipe sat down on his thin, lumpy, straw-filled cot to think. He could only pray that Zorro would somehow discover the _alcalde's_ trap when he rode to Felipe's rescue, as Zorro doubtless would. In the dark cell, he could only see outlines and shadows. 

At last, the boy sighed. _It's doing me no good to go over it again and again. I can't help myself, and I can't help Zorro. I must think of something else._

To get his mind off his predicament, Felipe began to think about his impending adoption. In spite of his misery, he smiled as he remembered the day Don Diego had told his father, Victoria, and Felipe, himself, that he was going to adopt Felipe. He had never told Felipe that before, so hearing the news had come as a complete surprise to the boy. 

Señor Risendo's body had been returned to the town, and the _alcalde_ had just gone to the church to visit Padre Benitez. Victoria had expressed her sympathy to the de la Vegas... 

_"There's something I've been meaning to tell you all for quite some time," Don Diego said, as he, his father, Felipe, and Victoria stood in the middle of the crowded_ plaza _. "Now would seem an appropriate moment. Felipe, with your permission--"_

 _Felipe knew what his_ patrón _was going to say. He was about to tell his father and the woman he secretly loved that he was Zorro. Felipe took a deep breath and squared his shoulders._

_"I..." Don Diego paused. "I...am..." He paused again, looking nervous; his father gave him an encouraging nod._

_Don Diego said quickly, "--going to adopt Felipe. He's to be a member of our family."_

_Felipe froze in shock, then in joy; he had not expected this. As a broad grin spread across the boy's face, Victoria squealed delightedly and pressed her hands together. At the same time, joy transfixed Don Alejandro's expression._

_"This is wonderful news!" he said. Clasping Felipe to his chest and hugging him tightly, he repeated, "This is_ wonderful news _!"_

_He let go of Felipe and, smiling at him broadly, clasped the boy's two shoulders. "I now have two sons!"_

_Felipe wrapped his arm around Don Alejandro's back. As Don Alejandro, in return, wrapped his own arm around Felipe's shoulders, he added, "The de la Vegas will_ never _be divided. Never!" Victoria had squealed her joy once more..._

Felipe knew he would never forget that day. He would remember it for the rest of his life. Back at the _hacienda_ , Don Diego had told his father, privately, about Zorro's identity, about Felipe's miraculous restoration of hearing before Diego's return from Madrid, and about the boy's music and fencing lessons; he and Felipe had shown his father the secret cave. Later that day, for the first time on a day other than Christmas Day or Epiphany, Felipe had eaten dinner in the dining room with his _patróns_. Victoria had joined them as their guest. His old friend, Rafael Lopez, had rejoiced with him when Felipe told him the news. 

From that point on, Felipe had alternated between eating his meals in the kitchen and eating them in the dining room. Since Don Alejandro had taught him, years before, the table manners of _caballeros_ , he already knew how to conduct himself in the dining room. His lessons had continued, as always--as they would until he was 21 years old and ready to go to college. He still performed his tasks, but he knew those days were numbered. When his adoption was finalized, he would be a servant no more. He would be a de la Vega. 

_If Zorro can rescue me, that is,_ he thought. _If he suspects me of being Zorro's accomplice, it's only a matter of time, now, until he suspects Don Diego of being Zorro. And when he does, Heaven help us all!_ He smiled wryly and squirmed. _Funny, if my mother and father had lived, I wouldn't now be going through this ordeal! Pleasant thought, isn't it?_

With that stray, not-so-pleasant thought, a picture came into his mind. A memory. In that mind's picture, his mother had just sat down on a pile of hay inside a huge barn, after giving her rosary to her seven-year-old son; now she was hugging him tightly. "Just remember, son," she was saying. "God loves you, and He will take care of you. Remember that!" The cannon blasts and rifle shots sounded increasingly louder as she rocked him in her arms. 

Felipe sighed as he thought about that day. _"Remember that,"_ he repeated silently. _God loves me, and He will take care of me._ Felipe paused. _God loves me, and He will take care of me. Even now, while I'm in danger of being flogged. He's done it before, and He will do it again._

He drew his rosary out of his pants and hung it around his neck. Until he grew sleepy, he prayed over and over for help, for rescue, for protection for Zorro. _Please, God, save Zorro and me!_ Felipe prayed silently. At last, he lay down on the lumpy, straw-filled cot, and laid his head on the thin pillow. He pulled the thin, brown woolen blanket up around his shoulders. 

As he lay still, trying to go to sleep, Felipe thought about what little he could remember of his mother. He did remember how sweet, how loving she had been...what a devout, pious Catholic she had been. He could still remember the exact words she had spoken when she had given him her rosary; he had never blocked those words out. 

"Take care of my rosary, Felipe," she had said. "It's yours, now. _Mi madre_ gave it to me when she died, and _her_ mother gave it to her. Now, _I'm_ givin' it to _you_. Pray with it every day, just like I taught you. When you die, give it to your own child. It belongs to you, now, son, so take good care of it. Whatever happens to you, go to church and be a good boy. Promise?" 

"I--I promise, Mommy." 

"Just remember, son; God loves you, and He will take care of you. Remember that!" 

Felipe yawned and closed his eyes. He burrowed his nose into the pillow. _Remember that!_ he thought. _Remember that! God loves you, and He will take care of you; remember that!_

"Run, Felipe!" 

Felipe shot up on his cot. It had disappeared, and so had the jail! Soldiers everywhere surrounded him; thick clouds of dust blocked his vision. 

"Run, Felipe!" It sounded like his mother. "Into the cart! Hurry!" 

Felipe whirled around and saw her; where was his papá? He raced toward his mother, who stood next to the nearby pushcart. "Where's Papá?" 

"He's coming, son." His mother lifted him into the pushcart; he was so small and so light! 

"Where's Don Diego?" 

His mother looked confused. "I don't know a Don Diego! We avoid _caballeros_ , son; they hurt us, remember?" 

"They sure do!" Felipe's father strode toward them. "Enough of this nonsense! Let's get out of here!" 

His parents grabbed the pushcart's handles and shoved it. As Felipe squatted next to the family's two big bundles and clutched the bars of the right side, he stared straight ahead. Other peasants rushed past them. Cannon blasts, rifle shots, shouts, and screams filled the air. 

_Where's Don Diego?_ Felipe wondered silently. _He'd never hurt us; I swear it!_ He dared not speak those words out loud while his father was present. 

Suddenly, to his joy, he saw Don Diego standing on the hill just ahead. He waved to the _caballero_ , who in turn beckoned. Felipe swiveled his head to tell his parents, but to his horror, they had disappeared! The pushcart was moving itself. 

_"Mommy!"_ Felipe screamed. "Mommy, where are you?!" 

He looked back to the hill where his beloved _patrón_ had just stood. Don Diego had disappeared, too! Felipe was all alone with the soldiers. 

Suddenly, an officer appeared in front of the pushcart and put out his right hand to stop it. With his left hand, he pushed up his officer's cap. 

Felipe froze. The officer who stood in front of him was Don Ignacio de Soto! 

The _alcalde_ laughed and laughed. "You're dead, _muchacho_!" he roared, as he pulled out a pistol and cocked it. "Your parents are dead; Don Diego and Don Alejandro are dead; Victoria Escalante and her brothers are dead; and now, _you're_ going to die!" He chuckled evilly. "Zorro can't help you now, _he's_ dead, too!" Felipe squeezed his eyes shut and screamed in terror. 

Felipe shot up on his cot. He shook violently as he stared wildly around. Where was Don Diego? Why wasn't he around to comfort Felipe? Terror and grief overwhelmed the boy, as he pressed his back against the cold, rough _adobe_ wall. He wrapped his arms around his chest. 

Felipe remembered. He was a prisoner in the _alcalde's_ jail, and the _alcalde_ intended to use him as bait to trap Zorro. Shivering with cold and with fright, Felipe lay down on his side and squeezed his eyes shut. _I'm going to be flogged at dawn,_ he thought. _Please, God, save Zorro, and save me!_ Por favor _!_

**ZZZZZZZ**

While Felipe lay on his side, shivering in terror from the aftermath of a nightmare, Zorro rode toward the _cuartel_. The moon had risen an hour before, and stars dotted the sky. A strong breeze ruffled his silk cape. As he approached the back of the _cuartel_ , he saw several soldiers milling around. 

Zorro shook his head. He would not be able to climb in from the back; he would have to circle in front of the building. He led his horse behind the mission church and dismounted there. 

Zorro peeked around the corner of the church to look at the _plaza_ ; it appeared to be empty. He minced toward the _cuartel_ and opened the door to the _alcalde's_ office. He crept inside and headed toward the jail door. 

As he reached it, the door swung open and the _alcalde_ walked in. In that instant, just as the _alcalde_ closed the door behind him, the other two doors creaked open, and a crowd of soldiers poured in. 

"Well, well, well." De Soto chuckled evilly. "At long last, the Fox has been captured. Tomorrow, El Zorro, you and the boy will hang!" He turned to his lancers. "Lock him up in a different part of the jail from where I've locked up Felipe! I want a lancer posted to guard him, 24 hours a day! We'll unmask him at dawn." 

Several lancers marched Zorro into the jail area and locked him in a cell. All but one left. That one soldier paced the dark hall leading past the row of cells. All were empty, except the one Zorro was in, and dark. The only light came from the moon and the stars outside. The window faced the California desert. 

Hours later, as Zorro sat on his cot, considering his options, Sergeant Mendoza entered the jail. "I'm relieving you, Gomez," he told the lancer. 

The lancer left. "I'm sorry, Zorro," the sergeant said. 

Zorro chuckled and approached the cell door. "Don't be, sergeant. You're only following orders, I know." 

_"Si."_ Mendoza nodded. "A soldier has to follow orders." He sighed. "You know, Zorro, if it had been left up to me when Felipe was arrested by our former _alcalde_ , he would have been released long before he was." 

Zorro nodded, remembering. On two occasions, Luis Ramon had arrested Felipe on false charges. The first time, Zorro had rescued him during the night with the aid of a time-traveling cat. The second time, Zorro had rescued him after he had been falsely accused of stealing from Don Alfonso de la Calderon. On both occasions, the _alcalde_ had planned to hang the boy. 

"I'm sure he would have been, sergeant." He paused. "You know, it's a pity you couldn't stay with Felipe tonight. He must be frightened." 

_"Si."_ Sergeant Mendoza nodded. "Especially since the _alcalde_ told Felipe he would be flogged at dawn unless he told the _alcalde_ who you were." 

Zorro pursed his lips as the unwelcome words sank in. He was in real trouble, and so was Felipe. Unless he could somehow escape, he and Felipe would hang. Without another word, he perched on the cot and leaned against the _adobe_ wall. Even through his silk cape and linen shirt, the bricks felt cold. 

_I'll just have to await my opportunity,_ he thought, _and seize it when it comes._ He glanced at the saber leaning against the wall in its scabbard. 

As the hours passed, Zorro sat on the cot or paced the cell. Sergeant Mendoza stood in front of the cell at first, and then got himself a chair and sat down at the end of the hall, a little out of sight of Zorro. Zorro, meanwhile, continued to wait and to pray. 

Late in the night, as Zorro stood gazing out the window, a familiar voice whispered just below the bars. "Zorro? Are you there?" 

Zorro's heart leaped. It was his father! Zorro pressed his face against the cold iron bars. 

"Don Alejandro?" Zorro whispered. "Is that you?" 

"Yes. A friend gave me a message instructing me to help you. Is anyone else there?" 

Zorro glanced at the cell door. Sergeant Mendoza was not in sight. "Sergeant Mendoza is guarding me, but he's sitting on a chair at the end of the hall." 

"Good. I've brought Toronado, and I've brought the things you requested. Stand quietly, and I'll pass them to you." 

Don Alejandro slipped between the bars a vial, a bottle, and a flower. While Zorro poured the contents of the vial onto the flower, Don Alejandro tied one end of the rope onto the bars and the other end onto Toronado's saddlehorn. Zorro then poured the contents of the bottle around the edges of the window. 

"Zorro, have you found Felipe, yet?" 

"No, I didn't have a chance. The _alcalde_ and his soldiers trapped me before I could open the jail door. He must be imprisoned in another part of the jail. But I'll save him yet, don't worry. In the meantime, wait here and don't let anyone see you." 

Zorro approached the cell door. "Sergeant, would you come here for a moment?" 

The thuds of a pair of boots signaled Mendoza's approach. A few seconds later, the plump sergeant appeared in front of the cell door. "Do you need something, Zorro?" 

"Yes, sergeant, I need someone to put this flower in a vase of water for me. While I was riding, I found it and plucked it to take back with me, after I'd rescued Felipe. It's a lovely flower, as you can see, and it has an aromatic scent. Would you please find me a vase?" He handed Mendoza the flower as he spoke. 

" _Si,_ Señor Zorro." The sergeant raised it to his nostrils to sniff it. Suddenly, he slumped to the floor. The flower slid out of his hand. 

Zorro returned to the window. "Now, Don Alejandro, now!" he whispered. 

He perched on the cot and waited. Suddenly, the rope tightened, then pulled the bars out. Zorro climbed out the window and joined his father. 

"Come on, son!" Don Alejandro whispered. "Let's get out of here!" 

Zorro shook his head. "You go on ahead, Father. We mustn't be seen together." Don Alejandro nodded. He mounted his white mare, Dulcinea, and rode off. 

Zorro was still determined to rescue Felipe. He would have to go around from cell window to cell window until he found the boy. Before he had a chance to begin, however, a lancer stepped around the corner. 

" _Alcalde!_ Lancers! It's Zorro!" he shouted, unsheathing his rapier. "He's escaped!" 

Zorro unsheathed his saber and began to duel. A moment later, the _alcalde_ and several soldiers appeared. 

Zorro whistled, shrilly. Toronado galloped toward them, scattering frightened lancers as he did. Zorro jumped onto him and rode off. 

"Don't let him get away!" he heard the _alcalde_ shout, as Zorro rode south. "Lancers! After him!" 

Zorro urged his horse to greater speed. Soon, he knew he was safe from pursuit. He turned his horse toward the northwest, where the _hacienda_ waited. There was no time to lose...come dawn, Felipe would be either shot or hanged, or flogged--perhaps both! 

_Felipe was shot, once before, by ruthless_ bandidos _who robbed our_ hacienda _,_ Zorro thought. _I won't let him be shot a second time._ Or _hung!_

Meanwhile, back at the _hacienda_ , Don Paco de Fernandez was speaking with Don Alejandro. The two men reclined on the couch in the drawing room. 

"I knew your son, _señor_ ; we went to Madrid University together," Don Paco said. "May I count on his support, and on yours?" 

"Indeed, you may," Don Alejandro promised. He shifted position as he spoke. 

" _Gracias._ I felt you were a man I could rely on. I'll see you in the _plaza_ at dawn." Don Paco paused. "And don't worry about your boy. The _alcalde_ will not harm him; I will personally see to that." 

Don Alejandro nodded. "On Felipe's behalf, _señor,_ I thank you." 

Don Paco smiled. "When the _alcalde_ is in chains and the new _alcalde_ has been appointed--and we both know who that will be, don't we--I need to meet with you and Don Diego." 

Don Alejandro felt curious. "What about?" 

"I'll tell you when the time comes. It is news that will please you." 

**ZZZZZZZ**

Sergeant Mendoza approached Felipe's cell the next morning, as the early-morning sunlight poured through the cell bars to form its own bars of light and dark on the floor. The _alcalde_ followed. 

As the sergeant unlocked the door, Felipe stood up. The _alcalde_ entered the cell. 

"Count yourself lucky, Felipe," de Soto said. "You're living on borrowed time. Last night, we had Zorro, but he escaped. We were going to hang the two of you together, but he foiled that. When he comes back to try again, we will capture him, and both he and you will die." 

Felipe stood still and pressed his hands to his sides. 

"In the meantime, Felipe, you're going to be flogged as punishment for refusing to answer my questions last night. Sergeant, take him out to the _plaza_!" 

Felipe gulped. Since waking up from his nightmare, the previous night, he had not dared go back to sleep. Until the sun had risen, he had lain on his cot, worrying about the upcoming flogging and praying for rescue. 

Sergeant Mendoza gently took Felipe's arm. He led Felipe down the hall and through the _alcalde's_ office. The sunlight hurt Felipe's eyes as he stepped outside. 

The _alcalde_ led the boy toward the whipping post, where he tied Felipe's hands with the post's thongs. A crowd had gathered; Don Alejandro, Francisco, Ramon, and Victoria stood at the front. Don Luis Piscola stood at a distance, grim-faced. 

"No!" the crowd shouted. " _No!_ Release Felipe! Don't flog him!" 

" _Alcalde,_ let him go!" Don Alejandro shouted. 

_If Zorro doesn't arrive soon, I'm lost!_ Felipe thought. He swallowed hard. 

"Sergeant, the whip!" the _alcalde_ commanded. _"Silencio!"_ he shouted. The crowd reluctantly quieted. 

Felipe felt a hand grab the neckline of his cotton shirt--no doubt, the _alcalde_ intended to rip the back of his shirt off. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. The thongs bound his hand so tightly, they had cut off the circulation. His hands felt numb. 

Suddenly, a deafening gunshot startled him. The hand let go of his shirt, instantly. 

As Felipe whirled around, another gunshot reverberated in the _plaza_ ; the crowd screamed and scattered. Suddenly, Zorro rode into the _plaza_ on Toronado and lassoed the _alcalde_. The rope pinned de Soto's arms to his sides. 

_"Alcalde,"_ Zorro warned, "order your soldiers to release Felipe!" 

The _alcalde_ gritted his teeth as he glared fiercely at Zorro. "And if I don't?" 

"Then I, myself, will order the soldiers to flog you, and they will! And since I have this rope pinning your arms to your sides, I doubt they'll be inclined to disobey me." 

De Soto ground his teeth in rage. Sullenly, he ordered Mendoza to untie Felipe's hands. Mendoza did, as the crowd cheered. 

Felipe darted toward his _patrón_. Don Alejandro raced toward Felipe and embraced him tightly for a long moment. Then Victoria, Ramon, and Francisco took turns hugging him, and Victoria kissed the boy's cheek. 

_Thank You, God!_ Felipe silently prayed. Gracias de Dios _!_

_"Gracias,_ Señor Zorro." A distinguished-looking gentleman Felipe had never seen before stepped into the _plaza_ , surrounded by soldiers in white uniforms. "You've just saved me the trouble of capturing this man myself." He turned to his soldiers. "Lancers! Arrest Ignacio de Soto and put him in irons!" 

"You can't do this!" The _alcalde_ froze as two of the emissary's soldiers grabbed him by the arms. 

"I can, and I have! You leave for the port of San Pedro, in a few days." The gentleman turned to his soldiers. "Take him to the _cuartel_ and lock him up!" He looked at Zorro. "Señor Zorro, _por favor,_ stay in the _plaza_! I have news that will interest you." Zorro nodded and patted Toronado's neck. 

The king's soldiers marched a sullen Ignacio de Soto to the _cuartel_. The gentleman strode to the _plaza_ fountain and stood in front of it. He wore a blue broadcloth frock coat, a purple satin vest, a white silk shirt with ruffles, a coal-black silk cravat, and a black top hat. He stood tall and straight, with squared shoulders, as the de la Vegas did. 

The _don_ cleared his throat. "Good people of Los Angeles, I am Don Paco de la Fernandez, emissary to the king. The king has sent me to arrest your erstwhile _alcalde_ , and to appoint a new one. After much thought, I have chosen the man I'm convinced is the best man for the job." Don Paco paused. "Don Alejandro, I hereby appoint you as _alcalde_ of Los Angeles!" 

The people cheered as Don Alejandro bowed and accepted the position. Victoria and Felipe smiled broadly as Don Alejandro stepped forward; facing the crowd, he waved his arms and bowed. "I will strive to be worthy of the trust that is offered me." 

The emissary raised his arms for attention; the crowd quieted. Don Alejandro rejoined Felipe, Victoria, and her brothers, and inserted his thumbs into his vest pockets. "That's not all." Don Paco paused and gazed at Zorro. "The king has also invested me with the authority to arrest Zorro or pardon him, based on the evidence I discovered. After a full day, yesterday, of investigating Zorro, I'm convinced that he is not a criminal. On the contrary, he's probably the best friend Los Angeles has had for a long time, and I will tell the king so." 

The emissary paused. "I therefore pardon Zorro officially, without asking him to take off his mask. Whether or not he is to continue to wear it, I leave to the discretion of your new _alcalde_." 

The people cheered long and shrilly, as Don Alejandro, Felipe, Ramon, Francisco, and Victoria rejoiced at the unexpected news. Now, at long last, Zorro could marry Victoria! 

Don Paco approached Zorro and handed him a rolled parchment. Zorro unrolled it, scanned it, and then held it up for all to see. The people cheered again. 

Zorro dismounted Toronado and approached Victoria, Felipe, and Don Alejandro. "Zorro, are we to find out who you are?" Victoria asked. 

Zorro smiled. "Indeed, you are, and I give you permission to untie the mask." He removed his hat. 

The crowd quieted again as Zorro turned around. Victoria untied the knot and slipped the mask off. He turned around to face the crowd. 

There was a stunned silence for a moment, followed by deafening cheers that went on and on. Don Alejandro embraced his son, then Victoria threw her arms around him. Don Paco just gaped at Don Diego, dumbfounded, as the _caballero_ embraced Victoria for a long moment. 

When, at last, the cheers died down, Don Diego gazed into Victoria's eyes. "Do you still love me, now that you know whom Zorro is?" 

Victoria smiled and touched his face. "I certainly do." 

Don Diego took her hand. "Will you marry me late this afternoon?" 

Victoria nodded. "I will." 

Don Diego glanced at Felipe, and then at Don Luis, who slowly approached them. "Victoria, as you know, I promised Felipe I would adopt him. Do you have any objection?" 

Victoria smiled fondly at Felipe, then shook her head. "I love him, too, Diego. I will pleased to become his mother." Don Diego smiled, relieved; so did Felipe. Don Diego and Victoria took turns hugging the boy. Don Alejandro and the Escalante men followed suit. 

"I will let you know when the papers are ready," Don Luis promised. The de la Vegas, the Escalantes, and Felipe nodded. 

Don Diego turned to the crowd. "I invite everyone present to attend our wedding this afternoon! At five o' clock. There will be a reception to follow at our _hacienda_ , this evening." Turning to Felipe, he added, "I'll send a servant to invite your friend, Rafael, to the wedding." 

Felipe beamed. It would be wonderful to have Rafael Lopez present! 

Don Paco approached Diego, who shook his hand. "Don Paco, I remember you! You were a straight-A student, as I recall." He turned to his father. "We were students together at Madrid University, Don Paco and I." 

"I know." Don Alejandro clasped his hands behind his back. "He told me, last night." 

Don Paco chuckled. "You kept us all on our toes with your own grades, Diego. I had to study quite a bit, just to surpass you. And you certainly haven't changed in that respect." He gazed at Don Diego's black costume as he spoke, and smiled ruefully. Don Diego chuckled. 

"Paco, how did you get sent here to investigate Ignacio de Soto?" 

Don Paco inserted his fingers into his vest pockets. "An old friend of your father, Don Francisco de la Calderon, was responsible. I'll tell you more about that, later." 

"Won't you come to my wedding, Paco? And you, Don Luis?" 

Don Paco nodded. "I certainly will." 

"And so will I," Don Luis promised. 

The wedding went without a hitch. Victoria's snow-white bridal gown looked exquisite as Don Alejandro escorted her down the church aisle to give her away, since her father wasn't alive to do it. Don Diego's best man, Felipe, stood next to his _patrón_ , clutching the wedding ring. More than once, Felipe glanced back at Rafael, who winked and grinned in response. 

A wedding reception followed the ceremony, and was held in the de la Vega _hacienda_. Ramon brought some of the food; Maria, the de la Vega cook, had prepared the rest. Sergio and three other servants served it. 

When the reception ended at midnight, Don Alejandro suggested that Don Diego and Victoria spend their wedding night in the tavern. The newly-wed couple gratefully agreed. 

"Francisco, here, will serve me as lieutenant, starting tomorrow," Don Alejandro announced. "He will act as my assistant. I just hired him, today." 

"Congratulations!" Don Diego shook Francisco's hand. "It's so good to have you and Ramon back in Los Angeles." 

Ramon chuckled. "I thank you, Diego. You'll invite us to Felipe's adoption ceremony when you hold it?" He glanced at Don Luis as he spoke. 

Don Diego nodded. "Indeed, I will." He looked at Rafael. "And Rafael, here, is invited, too." 

_"Gracias, patrón."_ Rafael grinned at Felipe. 

Don Paco approached the de la Vegas. "Don Diego, will you and Doña Victoria return to the _hacienda_ tomorrow morning?" 

Don Diego and Victoria glanced at each other and nodded. " _Si._ First thing in the morning, before breakfast," Don Diego promised. 

"Good." Don Paco smiled. "Because I have an announcement for all of you, and I want you all assembled there when I give it. Your brothers, too, Doña Victoria. I'll return here, tomorrow. Tonight, I must tell Don Luis Piscola." Don Paco and Don Luis left the house, leaving everyone to wonder what his announcement could be.


	2. A Title, a Memory, and a Signature

"Run!" Consuela screamed. " _Run,_ Felipe! Into the cart! The soldiers are coming!" Clouds of dust shrouded Felipe's mother as she and Juan gestured to their seven-year-old son. Cannonblasts and rifle shots exploded in the distance. 

Felipe darted toward the pushcart where his parents waited. To his horror, they vanished with the cart just as he reached them! 

"Mommy!" the little boy screamed. " _Mommy!_ Where are you?!" 

No answer. His parents did not reappear. Felipe was trapped in the direct line of fire; soon, the soldiers would arrive, and they would kill him! Felipe looked around wildly for help. "Mommy! Papá! Where are you?!" 

Felipe shot up in bed, screaming at the top of his lungs. Only this time, no sound came from his throat. He stared wildly around the bedroom, quaking violently. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Gradually, he ceased shaking. 

Felipe pushed back the soft bedcovers and rose to his feet. It must be dawn; he could see the early-morning sunlight through the drapes. He put on his orange cotton shirt and white cotton trousers; he slipped his feet into his woven leather sandals and wrapped a brown woolen sash around his waist, at the top of his trousers. He shaved his face and combed his brown hair, then patted some men's cologne on his face. He leaned against the bureau, taking deep breaths and rubbing the back of his neck. 

_That was a horrible dream!_ He shuddered. _How much longer till I quit dreaming about that awful battle?_

He trudged up the hall, his woven-leather sandals clicking on the gleaming marble floor, toward the front of the house. He found the de la Vegas assembled in the drawing room, waiting for breakfast to be served. 

Don Diego, who had evidently just returned with his new wife from an overnight stay at the tavern, rose to his feet and stared at the boy, brows furrowed in concern. "Felipe! What's wrong? You're as white as a sheet!" 

Felipe just stared at him, quivering, then fell into his _patrón's_ arms. For a moment, Don Diego hugged him, then stepped back. "Did you have that nightmare again?" 

Felipe nodded. Doña Victoria, Don Diego's new wife, approached Felipe and clasped him to her chest. "You're safe, now," she said gently. "You're with us." She kissed the boy's cheek. 

"That's right." Don Alejandro squeezed the boy's shoulder. "And just think! Very soon, when Don Luis has the adoption papers ready to sign, you're going to be my grandson." Felipe smiled, wanly. 

The dinner bell tinkled. "Let's eat, everyone." Don Alejandro gestured toward the dining room. "Nothing like a good hot breakfast to chase ghosts away." He glanced down at his shiny gold timepiece and strode toward the dining room. 

_What will it take to chase_ these _ghosts away?_ Felipe wondered, as he sat down at the dining table, laden with silver, china, and crystal. _The ones that come back, night after night, to haunt me in my sleep?_ He grimaced. _For that matter, what will it take to free me from my past once and for all, so I'll be able to speak again?_ He pressed his index finger on the glistening, snow-white tablecloth and bowed his head. 

"Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord," Don Alejandro prayed. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen." Felipe made the sign of the cross and raised his head. Silently, he prayed that the nightmares would stop. 

Felipe had been having the same nightmare, in various forms, for the past four months. In it, his parents would disappear, or the soldiers would pursue Felipe. In the latter form of the nightmare, Felipe's parents lay dead, and Felipe tried in vain to scream for help. Just as the soldiers raised their rifles and aimed them at the little boy, to shoot him, he would wake up, terrified. 

After breakfast, Felipe and the de la Vegas bowed their heads again. Don Alejandro prayed, "We give Thee thanks, Almighty God, for these and all Thy gifts, which we have received from Thy bounty through Christ our Lord. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen." Felipe made the sign of the cross and rose from the table. 

A few minutes later, Don Diego met privately with his wife in their bedroom. Doña Victoria ran a comb through her thick, dark-brown tumbled curls, then laid it down. "Emissary de la Fernandez and your brothers will be here, soon; I wanted to talk with you first," he said, as they perched on the bed. The mattress sagged and creaked underneath them. 

Doña Victoria nodded. "It's about Felipe, isn't it?" She sighed. "Poor boy! What can we do, to make those nightmares of his stop?" 

Don Diego sighed. "For now, all we can do is hold him and comfort him when he has one. That's what I do." He paused. "I hope that his being adopted will do much to heal those painful memories of his. And that's why I brought you in here, dear wife. I felt that we should discuss it before we meet with Don Luis to sign the adoption papers." Doña Victoria leaned toward him. 

Don Diego paused. "As you remember, Don Luis told us, last night, that if we adopt Felipe, he will be considered the oldest son in the eyes of the law even if you give birth to a son later. And will receive an oldest son's share of the inheritance." 

"Which would cut off any son I give birth to." Doña Victoria sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap as she spoke. 

Don Diego nodded. "Yes." 

The two paused for a moment. Then Doña Victoria asked, "Diego, what are you getting at? Are you having second thoughts?" 

Don Diego chuckled. "No, Victoria. I still want Felipe to be my son; Don Luis's words have in no way changed that. But I did feel that you and I should discuss the issue before he brings the adoption papers. I want Felipe to be my son for a number of reasons, Victoria. For starters, he's always been like a son to me, anyway, and I wish to make it legal. I'm deeply fond of him, as you well know. But there's another matter, as well." 

Don Diego frowned as he shifted position; the mattress sagged and creaked underneath his weight. "As you know, Victoria, the welfare of our tenants has always been of vital importance to my father and me. We want the man who inherits the money and lands after me to share that concern. In the wrong hands, tenants can suffer greatly. As you know from experience, Victoria." 

"Are you referring to Don Pedro de Soto, who tried to evict all his tenants when he inherited his father's estate, years ago?" Doña Victoria gazed at him. 

Don Diego nodded. "The trouble with waiting till we have a son of our own, Victoria, is that we have no way of knowing what he'll turn out to be like. Sometimes, children turn out bad, despite their parents' best efforts. Felipe, at least, can be fully trusted. Not only was he born a peasant himself, he has been raised by us to care about people and about justice." 

Doña Victoria smiled and laid her hand on Don Diego's arm. "And in that, you and Don Alejandro have done a wonderful job. Felipe is a fine young man, and I know he will care about your tenants." 

Don Diego smiled back. "Yes. He will. In my heart, Victoria, I would rather bequeath the estate to one I know can be trusted with it, rather than take my chances with unknown factors. If Felipe had not been a part of our lives, there would be no question about taking such chances--necessity would force us to do just that. But Felipe is a part of our lives; he's completely trustworthy. I love him dearly, and I want to provide for him. I want him to be my son and heir." 

He paused. "Well, Victoria, I've shared my feelings; now, I want you to share yours. Please be honest with me; don't tell me what you think I want to hear, if your feelings run differently. Victoria, do you object to having Felipe for your son?" 

Doña Victoria smiled. "I'm not going to lie to you, now, Diego. That's the worst thing I could do." She brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "There's many unknown factors to consider, if we wait to have our own children. We may have nothing but daughters; we may have a son, only to lose him before he grows up. I'm with you, Diego. I feel that Felipe can be trusted, too. He's a kind, good, brave, intelligent young man, and his manners are excellent. And I understand your desire to make up to him for what he lost as a child. He needs to have a family he can belong to, whose last name he can share. He hasn't had that since he was a little boy." Don Diego nodded to indicate his agreement. 

Doña Victoria paused for a moment. "If there were no Felipe--and especially if there were no unknown factors to worry about--I would want my son, if I gave birth to one, to inherit everything. But I, too, love Felipe, and I, too, want him to inherit the estate someday. I want him for my son, too, Diego. Therefore, I say--" She paused. "Let's adopt him, and trust God to work out for good _all_ those unknown factors." 

Don Diego smiled gratefully. He hugged her tightly. _"Gracias!"_ He leaned back and gazed at her fondly. "You know, Victoria, you've always been a lady-a compassionate lady, I might add! Your mother and father did an excellent job of instilling manners in you. Now, you have the title of a lady to go with those manners and that compassionate heart. I can think of no better woman to bestow that title on." Doña Victoria smiled her appreciation of the compliment. 

He embraced her again. Affection for his new wife welled up in his heart. Suddenly, a servant entered the room and cleared his throat for attention. 

**ZZZZZZZ**

Felipe sat cross-legged on his bed, showing Sergio his spyglass. Sergio gazed through it and aimed it at Felipe for a moment. With a grin, Felipe posed for his friend, pressing his palm on the soft, navy-blue quilt. 

"Did Don Diego give this to you?" Felipe nodded as Sergio clasped the spyglass against his chest. 

Sergio laid the spyglass down. He yanked his slingshot and wooden toy sword out of his wool sash and showed them to Felipe. "Felipe, will you play soldiers with me, later?" Felipe nodded. Sergio held up the spyglass again. 

A servant entered Felipe's bedroom; the boys looked up at him. "Felipe, Don Paco de la Fernandez wishes to see you." 

Sergio laid down the spyglass, and inserted his slingshot and toy sword into his sash. He and Felipe trotted to the front of the house, where they found Don Alejandro, Don Diego, Doña Victoria, her brothers Ramon and Francisco, Rafael Lopez, and Don Paco waiting in the drawing room. 

"Well, Felipe!" Don Paco shook the young man's hand. "I've been waiting for you." He gazed at each person in turn. "I have very important news for all of you. It pertains to you, _amigo_." He gazed at Felipe and inserted his thumbs into his vest pockets. 

Felipe stared at Don Paco. To _Felipe_?! The boy pointed at his chest and gaped at the emissary questioningly. 

"Yes, Felipe. To you." Don Paco paused, an amused smile tracing his face for a second. "Felipe Cortez, the King of Spain has ordered that, as a reward for your role in saving the lives of the Duke of La Mancha and his family, you are to be given the title of the _Conde de_ Bajio. You will have your own coat of arms." The man showed him a picture of the chosen coat of arms; Felipe gaped at it in stunned silence. "This is an extinct title, _muchacho,_ so there's no lands to go with it. But the crown will send you a regular income: 50,000 _pesos_ a year." 

Felipe froze and gaped at the emissary. He couldn't believe his ears. _A **count**?_ Felipe thought, rubbing the back of his neck. _I'm to be a **count**?!_

The de la Vegas, Escalantes, and Rafael were also stunned. For a long moment, they gaped at one another and at Felipe. Felipe glanced at Rafael; the normally-fidgety boy stood stock-still, gaping at his old friend. 

"Don Francisco told us he was going to ask the king to reward Felipe, but the most we expected was a written commendation," Don Alejandro said. 

The emissary nodded. "Don Francisco asked the king to reward this boy, yes, but he didn't specify the form the reward should take. The king himself thought of the title. He sent me here with the first year's allotment of money; I've taken the liberty of depositing it in the bank in Felipe's name. And yes, the king has asked me to present to Felipe this plaque and this written commendation. He wrote the commendation, himself, and dictated the message engraved on the plaque." He handed Felipe a rolled parchment. 

Felipe unrolled it and read it silently. He handed it to Don Diego, who in turn read it to himself while the others read it over his shoulder. With a proud smile, Don Diego handed the written commendation back to Felipe, who gazed at it once more before rolling it back up. 

Don Paco handed Felipe the plaque. "Give me your right hand," he ordered. As Felipe held the plaque with his left hand, the emissary slipped a gold signet ring onto the boy's finger. 

"This ring has the coat-of-arms for your new title," he explained. "When you need to affix a seal to a letter you've written, use this ring to do it with." Felipe nodded. 

"When does the title go into effect?" Doña Victoria asked the emissary. 

"It's in effect now." Don Paco clasped his hands behind his back. "It went into effect the day I sailed from Spain. Felipe, here, has been a _conde_ ever since. When the king presents one with a title, Felipe, it's official. You are a nobleman, now--you are no longer a peasant." 

Felipe stood stock-still, stunned. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The de la Vegas and the Escalantes hugged him, one after the other; Doña Victoria kissed the boy's cheek. 

"Well, Felipe! I'm so proud of you." Don Alejandro clasped Felipe to his chest. 

"You deserve it, Felipe." Don Diego embraced him tightly. "If it hadn't been for you and Zorro, Don Rodrigo de la Calderon and his grandparents might well have been murdered." 

_"Señor--"_ Rafael's voice broke. "When did they do that?" 

"Months ago, _amigo_. Before you and your uncle came," Don Alejandro explained. 

Felipe told the emissary, with gestures, that he thought Zorro deserved a reward, too. 

Don Paco smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Zorro _has_ his reward, Felipe--his pardon and a new, just _alcalde_ for Los Angeles. The king cannot reward him beyond that, because in the eyes of the law, he's a bandit. But he _could_ pardon him and end the need for his crusade by appointing a new _alcalde_ , and he did." 

"And that, Felipe, is all I ever wanted for myself," Don Diego assured the boy. "I'm satisfied." Felipe nodded. 

Don Paco glanced at his timepiece. "And now, I need to return to town. Don Diego, I will return when Don Luis has the adoption papers ready, then I'll take your former _alcalde_ to Spain to stand trial. I'll see you at the adoption ceremony--Don Felipe Cortez, Count of Bajio!" He left. 

_Don Felipe Cortez!_ the boy thought. _Count of Bajio! That sounds so funny, being applied to me. But I guess I am, aren't I?_ He gazed at the gold signet ring shining on his finger. 

The de la Vegas, the Escalante brothers, and Rafael milled around Felipe, slapping his back and congratulating him. Felipe grinned broadly. Sergio himself shook his friend's hand and grinned back. 

Don Diego chuckled. "Unlike Gilberto Risendo, I'd say Don Paco is a fair, just emissary." Everyone agreed. 

Rafael shook his head in evident disbelief. "This sure isn't what we expected, is it, Felipe?" Felipe shook his head. They sure hadn't. When they were little boys in San Miguel de Bajio, not in their wildest dreams had either boy expected to become a nobleman. 

Don Alejandro raised his hand for silence. He glanced at Sergio. "Felipe, I have a request to ask of you on Sergio's behalf." Felipe gazed at the elderly _caballero_ as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Would you be willing to give your horse, Parche, to Sergio?" 

Felipe stared at him. _I don't want to give up Parche! He's been my horse for years! I saw him come into the world! I raised him, trained him; I've ridden him since I was thirteen. No, I don't want to give him up!_

Don Diego rested a hand on Felipe's shoulder. "Felipe, my father will give you another horse. You have my word on that. You know, Sergio really does need his own mount--he has to run errands, you know." Don Diego paused. "I know how much you love Parche--after all, you raised him and trained him yourself. It's your decision, _amigo_. " Don Diego squeezed the boy's shoulder. 

"Sergio rides as well as you do, now, Felipe," Don Alejandro added. "If he's going to keep running errands for us, he must have his own horse." 

Felipe gazed at Sergio, who stood silently, holding his breath. Felipe exhaled slowly. Don Diego and Don Alejandro were right. 

Felipe looked at Don Alejandro. The boy nodded his consent, then smiled at Sergio. Sergio grinned broadly and threw his arms around Felipe; the others smiled approvingly. _"Gracias!"_ the younger boy said, hoarsely. 

Felipe asked, via gestures, which horse would take Parche's place. Don Alejandro smiled. "When Diego, Victoria, and I have changed clothes, _amigo,_ come out to the stable with us, and I'll show you." 

A half-hour later, Felipe and the others followed Don Alejandro outside. Don Alejandro wore a grayish-blue broadcloth frock coat, a matching pair of trousers, a blue satin vest, a snow-white silk shirt with ruffles, and a coal-black silk cravat. Don Diego wore a bright-blue broadcloth tailcoat, a matching pair of trousers, a snow-white, ruffled silk shirt, and a white silk cravat. Victoria wore a white cotton blouse and a red plaid skirt. 

As Don Alejandro strode toward the stables, the others trotted behind. At the entrance, the aged _don_ held up his hand to stop the entourage. "Wait here," Don Alejandro told them. 

As the elderly _caballero_ entered the stable, Felipe watched. For a moment, as a gentle breeze brushed his cheeks, the boy gazed at Toronado, who now had a stall of his own with the other horses. Don Alejandro took the reins of his prize stallion, Emilio, and led him outside. 

"I'm giving Emilio to you," Don Alejandro told the boy. "My gift to you. He's yours, now, Felipe, and I know you'll take good care of him." 

With a nod, Felipe smiled his thanks, then threw his arms around Emilio's neck. He had always loved the magnificent, spirited, dark-brown Andalusian stallion. If he had to give up Parche, he would be glad to have Emilio in place of the pinto. The brown stallion sniffed the boy's face and hands; Felipe hugged the horse tightly. 

When Felipe let go of his new horse, he entered the stable, took Parche's halter, and brought the pinto pony out by the halter. He handed the halter to Sergio, who in turn hugged Parche. " _Gracias,_ Felipe. I'll take good care of him. I promise." Felipe smiled and nodded. He did not doubt that Sergio would keep his word. 

" _Si._ You will," Rafael agreed. "Felipe's going to be a good _caballero_ , too." 

Don Diego glanced at his gold timepiece. "Victoria and I need to go to the tavern and meet with Don Luis. Would you like to go with us, Felipe? Rafael?" 

Felipe shook his head. Rafael glanced at him, shifting from leg to leg. "I got to go home. I've got some chores to do." 

"We'll give you a lift home, Rafael," Don Diego offered. "What about the rest of you all?" 

"I will," Don Alejandro offered. 

"So will I. I need to get back to the tavern, anyway," Ramon said. 

"Yes, and I need to get back to work," Francisco said. He hesitated. "Uh, Diego, are you sure the lawyer knows what he's doing?" 

"He certainly does," Don Alejandro assured him. "Don Luis has a sharp legal mind, Francisco." 

"We'll let you all know when the adoption papers are ready to be signed," Don Diego told them. "Felipe, I'll give you and Sergio your fencing lessons, late this afternoon." 

The grooms saddled the horses for the men and Victoria, who mounted them and left, sitting tall and straight in their saddles. Rafael rode behind Diego on his mount. Felipe and Sergio watched them until they disappeared over the horizon. Felipe gazed for a moment at the sky, and smiled. 

_Pretty, fleecy clouds,_ Felipe thought. _They look so pretty, dotting the sky the way they do. And the breeze feels so good!_

As Felipe leaned against Emilio, rubbing its neck, a memory suddenly flashed into his mind... 

_A seven-year-old Felipe had just carried an armful of twigs into the house, as he did, twice every day. "Put 'em in the firepit, son," his mother said. Felipe nodded, and knelt on the hard-packed dirt floor in front of the firepit._

_As Felipe carefully arranged the twigs in the firepit, he asked, "Mommy, where's Papá?"_

_"He's gone to town to get some_ pulque _." His mother rolled the stone metate back and forth across the crushed corn kernels as she spoke. "It won't be long, the_ alcalde _said, before we'll have to leave San Miguel, and your papá wants as much_ pulque _to take with him as he can." She wiped the sweat off her forehead as she spoke._

_Felipe paused and straightened his back. "Why do we have to leave San Miguel?"_

_"Because the government soldiers are comin'. There's goin' to be a battle here."_

_"Are we ever comin' back?"_

_"Someday. When it's safe."_

_"When do we have to go?"_

_"Very soon. Now, get those twigs ready, son."_

_When Felipe had arranged the twigs to his mother's satisfaction, he rose to his feet and leaned against the rough wattle-and-daub wall of the hut. For a moment, he gazed at the rafters overhead, and at the thick thatch of straw comprising the roof. "Mommy, why is Papá always mad at me? Am I bad?"_

_His mother laid down the_ metate _. For a moment, she just sat there on her knees, looking sad. As Felipe approached her, she rose to her knees to hug him tightly. "No, son, you're not bad. You're a good boy, and Papá loves you."_

_"Then why does he always shout at me and hit me?"_

_Tears welled up in Consuela's eyes. "That's just the way he is, Felipe." She sighed. "He treats us both that way. He's just nervous and grumpy; it takes so little to make him mad. You have to be careful around him, and so do I. Don't forget, son, your papá hits_ me _, too."_

 _Felipe winced and rubbed his bruised cheeks. His father had struck him only that morning for missing the bucket while he had milked the she-goat..._

Felipe swallowed a lump in his throat. Just a few days later, he recalled, the _alcalde_ had evacuated all the _peons_ , split them into several groups, and sent each group to a different place, escorted by soldiers. The Cortez family and the Lopez family had been sent with different groups, much to Felipe's disappointment. The group Felipe's family had been sent with had been safe enough at its destination, at a _pueblo_ 50 miles north of San Miguel de Bajio, for two weeks. Then, the government soldiers had come and laid siege to the village. 

After two weeks of fighting, the _pueblo_ itself had fallen under attack. The peasants had tried to flee for safety while the battle raged around them. Every revolutionary soldier, and every peasant except Felipe, had been killed in the battle. 

In an effort to drive the painful memory out of his mind, Felipe fixed his thoughts on his mother. He recalled how his mother would comfort him when he'd had nightmares...how she'd rock him and sing to him when he fallen sick...how she'd tell him stories about her early life...and how she'd apply homemade salve to his face, legs, and back after his father had slapped his face and thrashed his legs and back with the leather strap. 

_Don Diego is a kindlier, gentler man than my late papá was,_ Felipe thought, wryly. _Not even the most charitable priest could have called my papá a gentleman, even if he'd had a title. Don Diego is. He'd be a gentleman even without the rank._ He glanced down at his gold signet ring as it shone in the sunlight. _I shall try to be one, too. Now that I bear the rank, I must have the manners._

Thinking about that brought Don Gilberto Risendo to mind. Risendo had definitely _not_ behaved like a gentleman, even though he had dressed like one! Felipe knew he would never forget the time Risendo had come to Los Angeles to collect a war tax. The emissary's coming had so devastated the de la Vegas. 

_I felt so sorry for Don Alejandro,_ Felipe thought. _He was so hurt--so devastated to learn that he'd had a second son and didn't even know it! And so was Don Diego. I hurt for them both._ He squirmed. 

Felipe remembered how Señor Risendo had kidnapped Toronado...how Risendo had planned to use the black stallion as bait to capture Zorro. He recalled how Zorro had outsmarted Risendo and rescued his horse. In the process, Zorro had received a gunshot wound; later, Felipe had carefully removed the bullet and bandaged Don Diego's arm. That wound had later betrayed Don Diego's secret to Risendo; in turn, Risendo had nearly betrayed that secret to Don Alejandro, just before the _alcalde_ had shot him. 

"Felipe, are you all right?" 

Sergio's voice startled Felipe; he jumped, then smiled apologetically at Sergio. He shrugged. 

"Felipe, I'm going inside, all right?" Felipe nodded. "Later, when I'm done with my tasks, can we play soldiers?" 

Felipe nodded again; Sergio left. Felipe gazed at Emilio for a moment, and patted the horse's neck. 

_I've lived here for ten years!_ he thought. _I first came here when I was just seven years old. Now, I'm seventeen. So much has happened since I came here, and before, too!_

More memories shot into Felipe's mind: Felipe working in the corn patch with his father, weeding. Felipe milking the she-goat or feeding the two goats, twice a day, while his father fed and groomed the _burro_. The Cortez family going hungry when the crops failed, to the point that their stomachs ached incessantly. The family participating in the yearly _fiesta_ honoring the _puebloï¿½s_ patron saint, the Archangel Michael. Consuela spinning thread, weaving and dyeing thread to make cloth, and sewing the cloth into clothes for the family. Consuela weaving straw into baskets, hats, and other items, to take to the weekly village market. Felipe and his mother going to the village market, so she could sell or barter her wares; going to Mass on Sundays and to confession on Saturdays; praying with Consuela's rosary as she and Felipe knelt before the family altar every night. Juan Cortez thrashing Felipe in a fit of rage, or beating his wife for displeasing him in some way. 

Soldiers arresting Felipe's father and taking him to jail. Juan sometimes had to stay in jail for varying lengths of time, for creating public disturbances, as Felipe recalled. 

_I used to visit the_ padre _when we went to town,_ Felipe thought. _He and my mamá and Godfather Lopez were my favorite people. They all told me wonderful stories. The_ padre _would tell me stories about God and Jesus and the saints, and my godfather Lopez would tell me all kinds of folk stories and stories about his family. He'd play his mandolin and sing wonderful songs, too, whenever we visited them. Godfather Lopez was a kind, good, godly man. And Mamá would tell me stories about her childhood._ The boy sighed. _I wish Godfather Lopez were still alive. I miss him! He could have watched me get adopted, too, if only he'd lived._

Intense pain welled up in the boy's heart. He leaned his head against Emilio's neck. _I don't want to remember any more! It hurts too much!_ Convulsive sobs forced their way out of his throat; tears streaked his face. 

Suddenly, in a desperate effort to escape the pain, Felipe swung himself onto Emilio and gathered the reins. He dug his heels into the stallion's sides; Emilio galloped north. The boy sat tall and straight in the saddle, as he'd been taught in childhood. 

An hour later, as Felipe neared the San Gabriel Mountains, a deafening explosion shook the ground. Emilio whinnied and reared; Felipe just managed to land on his feet as he fell. Pain shot through his right ankle, making him wince. 

Gritting his teeth, Felipe grabbed Emilio's reins and patted the horse. Slowly, the horse calmed down. Felipe tied the horse's reins to a nearby bush, then hopped toward a hill. He leaned against a boulder to peek over the hill. 

Not a fourth of a mile away, a wagon rested. Its horses stood grazing in a patch of grass close by. Three men milled around. 

"How long till we take over Los Angeles?" one of the men said. 

"Not long, now," another said. He scratched his neck as he spoke. "You'll have to fight like never before, men, for Los Angeles has some tough men to defend it." 

"What about the _alcalde_?" 

The first man snorted. "We don't have to worry about him anymore. He was fired just yesterday morning; I was there. Don Alejandro de la Vega has been appointed in his place. Since we're going to kill the de la Vegas anyway, that won't be a problem." 

Felipe froze in horror. _What are these men plotting to do?_ He decided to listen for a few more minutes. 

"After we've taken over Los Angeles," the first man went on, "we'll go to every other _pueblo_ in the territory. We shall free California from Spanish rule and set up a _Californio_ government. We've been under the Spanish yoke long enough!" 

"When shall we leave?" 

"Shortly. First, though, let's take these horses to water, shall we? They've had nothing to drink since yesterday." 

As the men led the horses away, Felipe considered his options. With his ankle twisted, he couldn't ride to the _hacienda_ and tell the de la Vegas. Yet, he knew he would have to act fast if he wanted to save the de la Vegas and the _pueblo_. 

_I've got to hurry!_ he thought. _There isn't much time._

Suddenly, he remembered the notepad and pencil he always kept in his trousers. Yanking them out, he scribbled a note to the de la Vegas. Hopping toward Emilio, he fastened the note to Emilio's saddlehorn and slapped the horse's rump. Emilio galloped away. 

Felipe cautiously hopped back toward the wagon. His only hope, he knew, was to ride as a stowaway and pray that the men wouldn't see him. To his relief, boxes and crates filled the wagon, and a heavy cloth covered them. Lifting the cloth, he climbed inside and lay down. The cloth fell. 

As Felipe lay huddled, waiting for the revolutionaries to return, he suddenly remembered the massacre of the revolutionary soldiers during the battle that had killed his parents. Suddenly, in his mind, cannonblasts, rifle shots, shouts, and terrified screams filled the air. 

Felipe trembled as his parents pushed the cart. He clutched the bars till his knuckles turned white. "Push!" Juan Cortez ordered his wife. "We _got_ to get away from here!" 

Suddenly, a deafening cannonblast hurt Felipe's ears; as the pushcart overturned, he screamed. Terror and grief overwhelmed Felipe, who sobbed convulsively, yet soundlessly. He rolled back and forth in his pain, bumping against the boxes and crates filling the wagon. 

"Let's get going!" A voice grabbed Felipe's attention. "Come on." It was the revolutionary who had spoken earlier, giving orders. Felipe gulped and, with great effort, stifled his silent sobs. He cautiously raised his hand to wipe the tears off his cheeks. 

As the wagon jolted, Felipe squeezed his eyes shut. He dared not move, lest they overhear him. Minutes passed. 

_Please, God, don't let them find me!_ he prayed. _And please don't let these men make war on California!_

**ZZZZZZZ**

Sergio wandered aimlessly in the kitchen. He tossed his toy sword into the air and caught it repeatedly. "Sergio, find something to do or get out," Maria, the de la Vega cook, said when he bumped into her for the third time. She sounded annoyed. 

"I'm sorry, Maria." Sergio plunked down onto the bench and rested his arms on the table. "I just wish the de la Vegas and Felipe would get back, soon. Felipe's going to play with me." 

Before Maria could respond, the back door banged open. A breathless _vaquero_ rushed into the kitchen. "Sergio, take this to the de la Vegas. Felipe's in danger and he needs help. Miguel is saddling Parche for you, now." He tossed a folded piece of paper on the rough pine table. 

Sergio leaped to his feet. He snatched the note and raced out the door, wondering what it was about. When he reached the stables, he paused to read Felipe's note. 

"I've got to find Don Diego!" he told himself. "Felipe's in real danger!" 

Miguel, the _vaqueros'_ foreman, had saddled Parche; he helped the boy mount the pony. Sergio inserted the note into the top of his trousers and thanked Miguel. He rode to town, to find the de la Vegas. 

Meanwhile, as the wagon also approached town, Felipe lay stock-still. The corner of one of the crates dug into his thigh, making him wince in pain. Unfortunately, there was no room to move his thigh. He forced himself to breathe shallowly. He prayed that he wouldn't sneeze; that would be a dead give-away! 

Felipe knew that if a battle took place in Los Angeles, innocent people would be hurt or killed, as his parents had been. It wouldn't only be the soldiers who lost their lives; civilians would, too. Since the de la Vegas had been targeted for death, they would certainly perish, and possibly Felipe himself with them. Somehow, Felipe had to stop these revolutionaries! 

_I've got to save the de la Vegas!_ he thought. _I can't let these revolutionaries kill them!_

The wagon stopped. Felipe heard boots thud and felt the wagonbox shake, as the revolutionaries hopped off the driver's seat. 

"Come on!" the leader ordered. "Let's go to the _plaza_ and examine it, shall we? Then we'll plan our attack." 

When the thuds had faded, Felipe cautiously crept out from underneath the heavy cloth, wincing as his ankle throbbed. He hopped toward the back of the tavern and leaned against it for a moment. He glanced down at his ankle; it was bruised and swollen. _I'll have to remove my sandal and bandage my ankle,_ he thought. 

Suddenly, he heard the men's voices. They were returning to the wagon! Felipe crouched behind some crates to avoid detection. 

"We need a way to draw the soldiers out," the leader said. "This is what we'll do. We'll set up the dynamite behind the _cuartel_. Then we'll take some firecrackers and shoot them off behind the dynamite, to attract the lancers' attention. When the soldiers come back here to check, we'll explode the dynamite. Then we'll pick off any surviving soldiers with our rifles." 

"And then we kill the de la Vegas." 

" _Si,_ if we don't see them first. If we do, we'll shoot them before we do anything else. And we'll start with Don Alejandro, himself." 

Felipe felt hopeless. He had done all he could do, he knew; without Zorro, all was lost. _These men are going to kill the de la Vegas if Zorro doesn't get here fast!_

Old memories exploded into his mind. He had been helpless on that other day, too. In fact, he had been just as helpless to save his mother and father, back then, as he was, now, to save the de la Vegas. In that instant, he knew the memory was going to overwhelm him again; this time, he would not be able to stem it. He leaned against the rough tavern wall, pressed his nose against the _adobe_ brick in front of his face, and braced himself for the storm. 

It struck with an onslaught... 

_Consuela Cortez crouched on her knees against the cold, stone wall of the huge barn, and Felipe stayed close to her. Sweet hay crinkled underneath as she shifted position; her dark-brown wooden rosary dangled from her neck. Her husband, Juan, stood in the doorway with three other peasant men, waiting for the coming soldiers. Other peasants surrounded Consuela and Felipe. Some sat on the bare ground or on piles of hay, Indian-style; some paced the barn; some leaned against the walls; and still others knelt on the lumps of hay and prayed. In the distance, cannonballs exploded._

_Juan turned around to face his wife and his seven-year-old son. "They're comin' closer." He took a deep breath. "They'll be here, soon."_

_Felipe shivered and approached his mother. She extended her arms, and the child crawled into her lap, whimpering. "Mommy, I'm scared." Felipe nestled against her bosom as she clasped him tightly._

_"I know, son. We all are." She paused. "We're in God's hands, Felipe. We can only trust Him." Felipe nodded._

_For a time, she rocked him and hummed. The distant cannonblasts gradually became louder._

_Suddenly, Consuela let go of Felipe. As he watched her, she removed the rosary from around her neck. "We will pray, once more," she told her son._

" Si, _Mommy."_

_For a time, Felipe and his mother prayed for safety, counting each decade on the rosary as they did. When they had finished, Juan approached them. "We must put everything in the cart, soon, Consuela. It's almost time."_

_Consuela nodded and rose to her feet. She took Felipe outside to relieve himself, and then they went to get a drink of water from the_ plaza _fountain. Her dull-green skirt swished as she led her son toward the fountain. Other_ peons _stood in line there, waiting for their turns, so Felipe and his mother had to wait. When Felipe had quenched his thirst, Consuela took a swallow. She then led her son back to the barn, where Juan still stood in the doorway._

_Felipe squatted on the hay in the rear of the barn, and Consuela paused. As Felipe gazed up at her, she removed her rosary from around her neck and held it out to the boy._

_"Take care of my rosary, Felipe." Her voice shook; she took a deep breath. "It's yours, now." She bent over to hand him the rosary; as Felipe rose to a kneeling position to take it, the hay underneath him crackled. His father, who still stood in the doorway of the barn, paid no attention to his wife or his son. He was too busy watching for the soldiers, as he had done every day since the siege had started, two weeks before._

_Consuela knelt to look her son full in the face. "_ Mi madre _gave it to me when she died, and _her_ mother gave it to her. Now,_ I'm _givin' it to_ you _. Pray with it every day, just like I taught you. When you die, give it to your own child."_

_They paused to listen to the gunshots and explosions. Consuela patted his cheek with a rough, workworn hand. "It belongs to you, now, son, so take good care of it. Whatever happens, go to church and be a good boy. Promise?"_

_Felipe's voice trembled. "I--I promise, Mommy." Why was his mother talking like that?_

_The next cannonball explosion sounded louder. The government soldiers were getting closer. Felipe shivered._

_His mother sat down on the pile of hay and hugged Felipe tightly. The hay crackled underneath her. "Just remember, son; God loves you, and He will take care of you. Remember that!"_

_"Y--yes, Mommy." Felipe nestled against her bosom again._

_Consuela rocked the little boy and crooned to him as he tried to ignore the increasingly louder noises of battle. The other peasants surrounding Felipe and his mother alternately sat silently and prayed._

_Half an hour later, the battle exploded in the village_ plaza _. All the_ peons _hurriedly gathered their belongings and fled the_ pueblo _. Felipe and his parents packed all their possessions inside the wooden pushcart. The family belongings were packed in two huge bundles._

 _Consuela hastily draped her shoulders with a yellow woolen shawl, and her husband put on his homemade, gray felt_ sombrero _. Consuela had made it for him two years before, when Felipe was just five. Juan then lifted Felipe and set him inside the pushcart._

_"Hold tight!" he ordered the boy. "Don't move!"_

_Felipe trembled as his parents pushed the cart out of the barn. He clutched the side till his knuckles turned white. He could feel the smooth rosary beads pressing against the side of his hip, where they nestled inside the top of his trousers._

_"Push!" Juan Cortez ordered his wife. "We got to get away from here!"_

_As the_ peons _rushed out of the_ pueblo _, government soldiers and revolutionary soldiers surrounded them, fighting. Rifle shots and musket shots, cannonblasts, battle shouts, and terrified screams echoed in Felipe's ears. Thick clouds of dust from the cannonblasts blocked his vision and choked him. He coughed and coughed, trying to clear his windpipe._

 _When he could finally breathe, Felipe clutched the side of the cart and stared ahead._ Please, God, protect us! _he prayed silently._

 _Suddenly, the pushcart stopped. The other peasants rushed on ahead as Consuela darted past Felipe to the front end of the cart. "Consuela, you pull on that end!" Juan ordered. "I'll push it from behind. We_ got _to get this cart loose!"_

_As Felipe watched his parents and gripped the round wooden bars that comprised the right side (and the left side) of the cart, his parents pushed and pulled; the cart refused to budge. With a loud grunt, Juan gripped the handles so hard his knuckles turned white, and he threw his whole body against the end of the cart. Clutching the front end, Consuela heaved and strained._

_"Mommy!" Felipe cried, just before the pushcart began to creep forward._

_Consuela rushed back to the handles and helped her husband push them. Suddenly, an earsplitting cannonblast exploded in Felipe's ears and jolted the ground violently; Felipe soared through the air and landed on his head. The terrified boy screamed as he fell; excruciating pain exploded inside his head when he landed on the ground. Pitch-blackness descended. He knew nothing._

_When the blackness receded, Felipe found himself lying facedown on the ground, with grass tickling his nose. An eerie, absolute silence surrounded him. The two bundles containing his family's possessions pressed his back, pinning him down. His head throbbed, making him wince._

_Felipe raised his aching head and clutched the side of it with his right hand. The sides of the pushcart lay up-ended on the ground; it had been overturned._

Mamá? _Felipe thought._ Papá? Where are they? _The boy winced._ Ow! My head hurts!

 _He looked around. Several feet from his head, his father lay facedown in the grass, his felt hat lying askew. Where was Felipe's mother? He just_ had _to find out!_

_Gritting his teeth, Felipe rose to his elbows and knees. Shaking his body sideways, he shoved the bundles to the side. He crept out from underneath the overturned pushcart, and looked toward his left._

_His mother lay sprawled on her side on the other end of the cart. Felipe crawled toward her and shook her shoulder._

_"Mommy," he tried to say; nothing came out. "Mommy," he tried to say, again, as he shook her a second time. No sound came from his mouth._

_Fear gripped Felipe's heart. He clutched his throat. "Mommy!" he mouthed a third time, in an effort to shout. His throat did not vibrate as it usually did when he spoke._

I can't talk! _Felipe thought._ Mommy's dead; Papá's dead!

 _He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Dead_ peons _and soldiers lay scattered in the grass and surrounded Felipe. He could see no one alive in any direction he looked; he couldn't hear a single voice, thud, or creak. Even the victorious government soldiers had disappeared. He was alone. All alone._

_Desperately, in an attempt to gain someone's attention, Felipe tried unsuccessfully to scream for help, wincing as his head throbbed. He clapped his hands, but no one came; there was no answering shout. Felipe clapped his hands again. This time, he noticed that the sound his hands usually made when slapped together was totally absent. He stared down at his callused, workworn hands and clapped a third time. There was no clapping sound._

No! _the boy thought._ It's not true. It's not! _His hands shook; he swallowed a lump in his throat._

_After an unsuccessful attempt to revive his father, Felipe wandered away from the dead bodies. He found a fist-size rock and picked it up. In that instant, he decided to find out if he could hear or not._

_Felipe hurled the rock toward a nearby tree. It bounced off the trunk and landed in the grass. The thuds Felipe had expected to hear did not reach his ears._

I can't hear! _he thought._ I can't talk; I can't hear!

_Panic seized the little boy as he fully realized the mortal danger he was in. Unless someone found him soon, he would die of thirst and starvation, he knew. Felipe collapsed on the ground and wept profuse, heavy, yet silent sobs._

_For the next three days, a terrified, grief-stricken Felipe wandered the desert, looking for help. At night, he slept under trees; during the day, he looked in vain for water. He did not know how to find food, so he didn't even try._

_At night, when he lay still, he would try to warm himself by scrunching his legs upward and wrapping his arms around his chest. He would pull his rosary out of his trousers and, counting the beads, pray for rescue. As his terrors overwhelmed him, Felipe would sob convulsively, till sleep overcame him. Later, during the night, a nightmare would force him to wake up, screaming soundlessly for his mother._

_Once, a downpour drenched him; Felipe raised his head to drink the rain, and thus quench his overpowering thirst and soothe his dry throat. The rain lasted all afternoon; he drank the rainwater again and again, as it poured on his face. The rain could not satisfy his hunger, alas. As the sun set, the rain stopped and the clouds cleared away._

_Gradually, he became too weak from hunger and thirst to keep walking. On the evening of the third day, he finally settled down in an area where part of the fighting had occurred; dead soldiers lay scattered everywhere he looked. As usual, as he had done for the past two nights, he lay huddled on his side, said his prayers, and cried himself to sleep. That night, for the third time in the last three nights, he had a nightmare that made him wake up, screaming soundlessly. He then cried himself to sleep again._

_The next morning, at dawn, Felipe woke up and sniffled. The tears had dried, but his nose felt stuffy. Feeling too weak from hunger to walk any further, Felipe sat up, grabbed his rosary, and prayed with it as his mother had taught him. When he was finished, the sky had turned blue. He inserted the rosary into his smudged trousers, folded his legs upward, laid his right hand face-up on one of his knees, and rested his face down on it. What was going to happen to him?_

Please, God, _he prayed, silently whimpering,_ don't let me die!

_Time passed; Felipe had no idea how much. Every time he raised his head, the sun had risen further into the sky. Hours passed as he sat under that tree, too weak to stand up and walk._

_Once, when he looked at the sky, the sun had risen halfway up. It was mid-morning of the fourth day, and he was alone. He stifled a sob and lowered his face back onto his hand._ Maybe, _he thought,_ when I die, there'll be an angel to take me to Heaven. I hope there will be.

_Suddenly, a half-hour later, a breeze arose, ruffling his hair. A few moments later, a sweet scent Felipe had never smelled before wafted toward his nostrils. It didn't smell quite like a flower, but it came close. What was causing it?_

_As Felipe slowly raised his head to find out, he saw a pair of shiny, black leather books with spurs just a few feet from his face. Raising his head further, Felipe saw a pair of white trousers, a sash, a snow-white shirt with ruffles down the front and on the sleeves, and a yellowish-beige jacket. Above that jacket and shirt, he saw the face, blue eyes, black hair, and thin moustache of a strange man--a_ caballero _!_

 _Felipe had never before seen a_ caballero _up close. He had, of course, seen them from a distance in San Miguel, but none of them had ever deigned to speak to him. His parents had warned him against trying to approach one. "_ Caballeros _don't like_ peons _, Felipe," his mother had warned him repeatedly. "We're not equal to them, so they look down on us. They would be very angry if a peasant boy dared speak to one. Keep away from them, or they'll hurt you!"_

"Si, _Mommy," Felipe would say. He had kept his word; he had been careful to watch rich landowners only from a distance._

_The gentleman stood straight and tall, with his shoulders held back. He gazed down at the little boy, deep sadness and compassion etched on his face. His blue eyes looked kind. He wore a yellowish jacket over a snow-white, ruffled shirt; a brown woolen cape hung from his back. Felipe gazed back at him, terror and grief etched on his face, and did not try to say a word._

_Without saying a word, the gentleman bent over and took Felipe in his arms. He lifted the little boy up and supported the boy against his shoulder. Felipe wrapped his arms around the_ caballero's _neck and rested his chin on the man's shoulder._ What's this _caballero_ gonna do to me? _Felipe wondered silently._

_The man gently carried him away from the tree. He spoke to another gentleman and a peasant man, then tried to speak to Felipe, himself. Try as he did, Felipe could neither understand a word the man said, nor utter a sound._

_At last, the man set him in a wagon. He climbed into the wagon with Felipe and fed the boy some water, some chicken broth, and three_ tortillas _. Felipe gulped the food down as fast the man handed it to him._

 _The_ caballero _then climbed out of the wagon and mounted his horse. He spoke to another gentleman, and the other one, in turn, spoke to the peasant man. The peasant climbed onto the driver's seat and took the reins. Felipe leaned against the side as the wagon jolted forward..._

Felipe came to himself with a start. Grief overwhelmed him, consumed him, swallowed him like a deluge, and forced a flood of tears to ooze from his eyes. He doubled over and wept heavy, profuse, yet silent sobs. For the next several minutes, he couldn't stop crying, he hurt so badly. It felt as if a tornado was ripping apart his insides. 

At last, the storm inside him subsided. Sniffling, Felipe straightened his back and removed his cotton handkerchief from inside his trousers. He dried his face and blew his nose. As he stuffed the handkerchief back into his trousers, his heart felt curiously light. 

Suddenly, he overheard Don Alejandro's voice. "Sergeant Mendoza, order out a patrol of men immediately. Felipe's in danger; we must find him quickly!" 

_"Si, mi alcalde!"_

Felipe hopped around the tavern and saw the de la Vegas, the Escalantes, Rafael, and Sergio assembled in front of the _cuartel_. _Rafael didn't go home, after all,_ Felipe thought, wryly. Don Alejandro had strapped a rapier to his side; it dangled in its scabbard. He and his son and daughter-in-law had on the same clothes they had worn when they had left the _hacienda_. 

_Good,_ Felipe thought. _Sergio took them my note. I must tell them I'm here, and so are the revolutionaries!_

To his horror, as Felipe turned his head to find something he could lean on, he saw the three revolutionaries standing next to the blacksmith shop. As he stared at them, they aimed their rifles at the de la Vegas. 

_No!_ Felipe screamed inside. _They're going to shoot; I've got to stop them!_

The panic-stricken boy thought frantically. _Let's see. When Zorro was in danger of being run through by one of those killers, months ago, God permitted me to shout a warning. Maybe, this time, He'll do it again!_

He swallowed, then took a deep breath. As he opened his mouth, he prayed silently that God would give him success. 

"Don Diego!" he shouted. "Don Alejandro! Look out!" Much to his relief and joy, his voice rang out loud and clear; the startled de la Vegas and their friends gaped at him. "The blacksmith shop! Look out!" The boy pointed toward the blacksmith shop. 

The de la Vegas whirled around. Don Diego shoved Sergio to the ground and covered the boy with his own body; Rafael dropped down next to them. Don Alejandro whipped a pistol out of his holster and ducked behind a water trough. In the next instant, shots rang out, frightening the villagers. 

The soldiers raced toward the three men, who fled. The de la Vegas and Sergio darted toward Felipe and took turns hugging him tightly. "Felipe! You _spoke_!" Don Diego's voice sounded husky as he repeated that statement over and over. 

"This is wonderful news!" Don Alejandro embraced Felipe tightly. "It truly is!" Doña Victoria kissed him and agreed. Rafael said nothing, but his beaming face spoke for him. 

Don Alejandro glanced down at Felipe's swollen foot; concern spread across his face. "You've sprained your ankle, _amigo_. We'd better get you inside." 

Ramon and Francisco joined them on the terrace. "Take Felipe and Rafael and Victoria into the tavern, and take care of Felipe's ankle, would you?" Don Alejandro asked them. "Diego and I must return to the _hacienda_ for a moment." 

"Certainly." Ramon smiled at Felipe. "Let's get you inside." 

"Zorro rides," Don Diego told Felipe. "Stay inside until we have those revolutionaries behind bars. You, too, Rafael." Felipe nodded acquiescence. 

_"Si, patrón."_ Rafael glanced at Felipe and nodded. 

Inside the tavern, Doña Victoria removed Felipe's sandal. Ramon bound the boy's ankle with strips of white cloth. Rafael knelt to the side and watched. 

"You fell off Emilio?" Francisco asked. Felipe nodded. "You're lucky you didn't break your neck. _Or_ your head." Felipe smiled wryly and nodded. 

Minutes later, Felipe, leaning on a cane, hobbled outside. As he stood in the doorway, the de la Vegas' new carriage entered the _plaza_. It was luxurious and elegant; it had dark-green sides with gold trim, and light-green velvet seats. Sergio sat in the driver's seat next to the driver himself. The carriage maker had delivered it to the _hacienda_ , only a few days before. 

As the carriage stopped in front of the _cuartel_ , Sergio leaped to the ground and opened the door for Don Alejandro, who stepped out. "Sergeant!" he shouted, as Sergio raced toward the church. "Are the men ready?" 

_"Si, alcalde!"_

"Not so fast, _alcalde!"_

Felipe whirled around; to his horror, the leader appeared on the church porch, holding a pistol on Sergio. "If anyone comes near us, this boy dies!" He gripped Sergio's arm as he spoke; Sergio winced. 

Don Alejandro pressed his lips into a thin line of rage. "You _swine_! Is this how you fight for Californian independence?" he shouted. "By taking children as hostages? Are you so cowardly, _señor_?" 

"We use any means necessary to break California free of Spanish rule!" The man gripped Sergio's arm so hard the boy cried out in pain. 

Don Alejandro removed his rapier from its scabbard and pointed it at the leader. " _Señor,_ I warn you! Unless you release the boy right now, my men will fire! You have but one minute to decide!" 

"And this boy will be the first to die! He is in front of us, as you see." The man pushed Sergio in front of him and wrapped his left arm around Sergio's chest. Don Alejandro growled as he lowered his rapier. 

Suddenly, a rock landed on the man's head; as he tottered, Sergio stamped on the man's foot and fled toward his _patrón_. Zorro landed on the ground before the leader and unsheathed his heavy Toledo-steel saber. "Let's see how well you fight when you don't hide behind innocent victims, _señor_!" He saluted. 

For the next several minutes, Zorro fenced with the three revolutionaries. One by one, he disarmed them and knocked them out. When he had defeated the last revolutionary, he carved a Z in the trousers of each man, then saluted Don Alejandro. "They're all yours, _alcalde_!" 

Don Alejandro grinned. " _Gracias!_ Once again, you have come to our aid!" 

The soldiers yanked the revolutionaries to their feet and marched them to the _cuartel_. Zorro disappeared behind the church, only to reappear a few minutes later as Don Diego. 

"Are you all right, _amigo_?" he asked Sergio. The boy nodded. "Good. Let's find Felipe." 

The de la Vegas, the Escalantes, Sergio, and Rafael gathered around Felipe on the tavern's terrace; Don Luis and Emissary de la Fernandez joined them. "Speak again, Felipe!" Don Diego urged. "Say my name." 

Felipe hesitated for a moment. Suppose he couldn't? 

"Try, Felipe," Don Alejandro urged. "Speak my son's name. You can do it." 

" _Si,_ Felipe," Rafael added. "You can do it!" 

Felipe took a deep breath. He slowly spoke the words, "Don--Diego." 

He froze as the realization of what he had done swept over him. He spoke the words again. "Don Diego!" 

Doña Victoria squealed with joy and hugged Felipe tightly. Her husband embraced him next, then Don Alejandro, then the two Escalante men. Don Luis and Don Paco followed suit, then Rafael. Sergio hugged him last. 

"It's a miracle!" Don Alejandro hugged Felipe again. " _Gracias de Dios!_ My boy can _speak_! My boy can _hear_!" His voice sounded husky and choked. "Thank You, Lord! Thank You!" Don Diego echoed his father's sentiments. Felipe, Rafael, and Sergio gazed at one other for a long moment. 

Don Diego clasped Felipe's shoulder. "I told you, Felipe, when those killers stalked you, that if you let go of the past, you would speak again. Did you finally make peace with the loss of your parents? Did you remember everything?" 

Felipe nodded. Pretending not to notice the nod, Don Diego asked the question again. 

_"Si."_ Felipe nodded again. "I remembered--and I cried. For several minutes, and I couldn't stop. It-it swept over me like a flood. Behind the tavern, before you all came out of the _cuartel_." 

Don Alejandro embraced the boy. "I'm glad, Felipe. You needed to mourn their deaths. As long as you were unable to do so, you couldn't put it behind you." 

Don Diego glanced at the lawyer and the emissary. "I propose that we make this a day to celebrate in every way. Are the adoption papers ready to sign, Don Luis?" 

" _Si._ Do you wish to sign them here, or at your _hacienda_?" 

"At the _hacienda_ , _por favor_." Don Diego glanced at his timepiece. 

"Then, let's get into the carriage," Don Alejandro said. 

"I'll stay close to Felipe." Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's back, to support the boy. "He can't walk fast, Father." He hugged the boy to his side as he spoke. 

Felipe turned to Sergio. "I--I can't--" His voice faded, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "I can't play soldiers till my ankle heals." Sergio nodded. 

Minutes later, back at the _hacienda_ , the de la Vegas, the Escalantes, Don Luis, Don Paco, Felipe, Rafael, and Sergio entered the drawing room. At Don Diego's insistence, Felipe sat down on the silk brocade couch. Rafael sat next to him, but swung his feet constantly. Sergio stood behind him, leaning against the back of the couch. He grinned broadly and fidgeted. 

A servant brought in a table and set it in front of the couch. Don Luis spread out the adoption papers, and Don Paco leaned against the wall and watched. Both gentlemen were dressed in their best. 

Ramon and Francisco stood side by side with Don Alejandro. Doña Victoria brushed her hair out of her eyes. Don Alejandro clasped his hands behind his back. Felipe fidgeted; butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his palms grew moist. He swallowed hard, twice. 

After the lawyer had explained the legal terms, he handed a goose-quill pen to Don Diego. "Sign here, Diego, and Felipe will become your firstborn son. By what name do you wish to call him?" 

"Felipe." Don Diego smiled at the boy. "Felipe Sebastian Juan Paco de la Vega. Sebastian for my grandfather, Juan for the father who sired him, and Paco for his late godfather." Rafael beamed at that. 

Felipe grinned broadly and fidgeted again. Doña Victoria and Don Alejandro smiled their approval of Don Diego's choice. The lawyer wrote the boy's new legal name in the margin he had, until then, left blank. 

Don Luis handed the quill pen to Don Diego, who dipped it into the gold inkpot. He smiled affectionately at Felipe, then bent over to sign his own full, legal name on the line indicated. Doña Victoria signed hers, next. The lawyer affixed a seal with his signet ring to the left side of their signatures. 

Everyone in the room clapped and cheered. As Felipe leaned forward, Doña Victoria approached Felipe and hugged her new son; Don Diego followed suit. "My _son_!" he said, huskily. "My firstborn son!" When Don Diego stepped back, everyone else took turns hugging the new de la Vega, starting with Don Alejandro and ending with Sergio. 

When everyone had finished cheering and hugging and congratulating Felipe, the maid brought a silver tray of drinks and served a crystal glass of wine to every person. Don Diego took his glass and sat down next to Felipe. Doña Victoria sat down on the boy's other side. Don Alejandro cleared his throat. 

"A toast to my new grandson!" While Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's shoulders, Don Alejandro inserted one thumb into a vest pocket and raised his crystal glass. "Felipe de la Vega! _Conde de_ Bajio!" Everyone raised his or her glass and took a sip. 

Don Diego smiled. "Well, Father, I have everything a man could want! I'm married to the woman I love, and now I have a son who's very dear to me." He gazed at Doña Victoria and Felipe as he spoke, and hugged his adoptive son to his side. 

Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "When you and I are gone, son, I can think of no better person to bequeath my inheritance to, than Felipe, here. He's been an excellent servant all these years. I know that Felipe will be an excellent _caballero_ , as well, and take his duties as one seriously." 

Felipe nodded. His ten years as a servant boy had taught him the importance of service, so he fully intended to use his new position to serve others, as his new father and grandfather had always done. _First, I must finish my studies,_ he thought. _And that means going to college._

Don Diego smiled fondly at his wife. "Well, my dear, now that you and Felipe have become de la Vegas, it's high time you and our son received new wardrobes. Tomorrow, I'll take you to the dressmaker so she can take your measurements. A week from now, when Felipe's ankle has had a chance to heal, I'll take him to see our tailor." 

Don Alejandro nodded. "That's an excellent idea." Don Luis, Don Paco, Ramon, and Francisco agreed. Rafael and Sergio grinned. 

Don Paco glanced at his timepiece. "And now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen-- _señora_ \--I must go. A ship for Spain leaves the port of San Pedro tonight, and my soldiers and I must see Ignacio de Soto onto it." He and Don Luis left the _hacienda_. The de la Vegas, the Escalantes, and Rafael made plans to celebrate Felipe's adoption for the rest of the day.


	3. Bad Father

The luxurious new de la Vega carriage passed through the _plaza_ gates. A few seconds later, its driver halted in front of the tailor shop. 

Sergio Esperanza jumped off the driver's seat and opened the carriage door on the left. Don Alejandro descended first, followed by his son, Don Diego. In turn, Don Diego extended his hand to his new wife, Doña Victoria, and helped her out of the carriage. Their newly-adopted son, Don Felipe, climbed out last. 

Don Alejandro waved to the carriage driver, who drove away. Don Diego turned to his new son, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, Felipe, are you ready?" 

Don Felipe nodded. With an amused smile, Don Diego repeated the question. With a sheepish grin, the boy said, " _Si,_ Father." As he spoke, he rubbed the back of his neck. A cool breeze caressed his cheeks. 

Don Felipe still tended to respond to a question with a nod or a gesture, in part because his voice was not, as yet, fully functional. It sometimes came out in whispers, and sometimes as the voice of a much-younger child. Sometimes, it would squeak, or fade out altogether. His father and grandfather had assured Don Felipe that as he practiced speaking, his newly-restored voice would stabilize. In the meantime, they insisted that he answer questions with spoken words. 

Doña Victoria had married Don Diego eight days before; she and Don Diego had adopted Felipe the day after. The day after Don Felipe's adoption and the emissary's announcement of the boy's ennoblement, Don Diego had taken his new wife to the dressmaker's shop to be fitted for a wardrobe befitting a _doña_ ; Don Felipe, because of a sprained ankle, had postponed visiting the tailor. Doña Victoria had received her new clothes the day before. 

That morning, she had donned a pale-pink silk dress and a darker-pink shoulder cape; both glistened in the morning sunlight. She wore a comb in her dark-brown hair and held a white reticule. Now that Don Felipe's ankle had healed, he was to be measured for his own new wardrobe. He had been newly re-christened a few days before, as Felipe Juan Paco Sebastian de la Vega. Since Felipe's previous godfather was dead, Don Alfonso de la Calderon and Ramon Escalante had both agreed to be named as the boy's new ones. 

The boy swallowed. "Am--am I really going to--" His voice squeaked; he paused to clear his throat. "Am I really going to have new clothes? Dress like you and Don Ale--I mean, Grandfather?" 

Don Diego chuckled. "Of course, you are! You and your mother are de la Vegas, now, and you must dress like de la Vegas." 

Don Felipe smiled back. Until recently, he had not thought of dressing like a _caballero_. All his life, he had dressed like the peasant he had always been. Even after Don Diego had announced the boy's adoption months before, wearing the attire of a Spanish _don_ had not occurred to him. Somehow, the idea that Don Felipe was going to dress like his adoptive father and grandfather really made the change in his status real! He wondered if receiving a new wardrobe had had the same effect on his adoptive mother. 

"Sergio and I'll wait for you and Felipe in the tavern, son," Don Alejandro said. "Where will you be, Victoria?" 

"I'll wait with you and Sergio." Doña Victoria smiled. "I want to see my brothers." 

Don Diego and Don Felipe waved as the three left them. "Come on, son." Don Diego squeezed his son's shoulder. "Let's go inside. The tailor is expecting us." 

Inside the shop, the tailor greeted them. "Do you still have the wardrobe list I sent you, yesterday?" Don Diego asked him. 

" _Si,_ Don Diego. I have it right here." The tailor took the list off a shelf and held it up in front of Don Diego and his son. "I've brought in all my part-time help, and I'll have them work full-time on Felipe's clothes until we're done. Your son will have his new wardrobe in a week, and it will be the best we can make. You have my word on that." 

_"Gracias."_ Don Diego smiled and put his arm around his son's shoulders. 

"Felipe, if you'll come with me to the back room, I'll measure you for your new clothes." The man gestured toward the back door. "Then I'll let you choose the fabrics for your new suits." 

Don Felipe followed the tailor into the fitting room. For the next hour, the tailor measured the boy carefully and thoroughly. As the tailor did so, Don Felipe stood frozen in every position the tailor requested. 

At last, the tailor laid down the measuring tape. "I'm done, _amigo_. I have all the measurements I need." Don Felipe sighed in relief. Toward the end of the session, he had grown considerably weary and exhausted. As the boy leaned against the _adobe_ wall to catch his breath, the tailor chuckled. "Being measured _is_ tiring, _amigo_ ; your adoptive father and grandfather will tell you the same. But it's necessary, so your clothes'll fit properly." 

Don Felipe smiled wearily as he scratched his arm. " _Si._ You're right." His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, so he paused to clear his throat. He glanced down at his white, oversized, unbleached, homespun cotton shirt and cotton trousers. "It'll feel strange, not to wear these homespun shirts and trousers and sandals anymore." 

The tailor nodded. "Others who have made the change have felt strange, too. But it will also feel good, I assure you." 

Don Felipe nodded in return, then followed the tailor back to the front room. For the next half-hour, the tailor showed the boy and his father shelves of expensive fabrics. With his father's guidance and the tailor's assistance, Don Felipe selected a variety of fabrics that would look good on him. For his jackets, coats, and trousers, he picked pale-blue, pale-green, brown, and dark-blue velvets and broadcloths. For his vests, he chose velvet, satin, and brocade. And for his shirts, he selected snow-white, fine linen and silk. 

"I'll have your new clothes ready, a week from today," the tailor promised Don Felipe, when every cloth had been chosen. 

"Thank you." Don Felipe smiled. 

"I'll pay you when his clothes have been delivered," his father added. 

The boy followed Don Diego out the door. The _caballero_ glanced at his gold timepiece as it gleamed in the sunlight. "All right, Felipe. It's time to visit the bootmaker." 

That visit lasted a half-hour, during which the bootmaker measured the boy's feet and showed him the leather he would use to make Don Felipe's new boots. "How many pairs do you wish me to make for him?" the bootmaker asked Don Diego, who leaned against the wall. 

"Three, _por favor_." 

"When do you want them delivered?" 

"A week from today." 

The bootmaker nodded. "I'll deliver them." 

_"Gracias,"_ Don Felipe said. His voice sounded like a little boy's, much to his own embarrassment. 

Don Diego and Don Felipe said good-bye and stepped outside. After a visit to the hatter, who helped Don Felipe pick the top hats and the flatter-topped hats the boy would need, Don Diego glanced at his watch. "Well, son, shall we join your mother and grandfather and Sergio? They're waiting for us in the tavern." 

Out of habit, Don Felipe nodded. Don Diego repeated the question. With a grin, his son nodded again. 

"I'm tired and thirsty," he said. "I--I could use some lemonade." 

The two joined Don Alejandro, Doña Victoria, Sergio, Francisco, and Ramon in the tavern. "Have a seat, gentlemen, and I'll get you some lemonade." Ramon jumped up. "Felipe looks exhausted." 

"I am." Don Felipe plopped wearily down on a hard, unyielding bench and rested his hands on the table. 

Minutes later, Ramon returned with a glass pitcher of lemonade and two more empty glasses. He made haste to fill them and set them before Don Diego and his son. As Don Felipe and his father drank their lemonade with the others, Don Felipe shared with them the feelings that had run through him while the tailor had measured him, and then helped him choose the fabrics for his new suits. His mother, especially, listened attentively. 

"All my life, I've wore homespun cotton and wool. Somehow--" Don Felipe's voice faded to a whisper again, so he paused. "Going through this--this ritual--makes the changes I've gone through seem so _real_!" He rubbed his fingers on his glass's smooth, cool side. "It never really felt real till now." 

Doña Victoria smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "I know, son. I know exactly how you feel." She squeezed Don Felipe's wrist. "I felt the same way a week ago, when the dressmaker measured me for my new clothes. And to put them on for the first time, this morning, made me fully realize--as nothing else had--that my days as a tavern owner are really over! You and I are going through some big changes, son, and it takes time to get used to them." 

Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "It does, indeed." 

Don Diego gazed thoughtfully at his glass. "Tomorrow, Father, I want to send one of the servants to Santa Paula, to buy Felipe some silk cravats." 

Don Alejandro nodded. "Send Manuel." Manuel was Don Alejandro's personal servant. 

Don Felipe took a sip of lemonade. "I've been a de la Vega for a week, now. When I've been a member of the family for 10 years, will I look back to this day a decade from now, and--" His voice squeaked; he cleared his throat. "And marvel at how much I've changed in the years since?" 

Don Diego nodded. "Undoubtedly, you will. This is only the first of many changes you will go through--or, rather, the second, if you count the traumatic events that brought you into our lives. When you're 21, my son, you will go to Madrid University, and then you'll go on a Grand Tour of Europe. Those experiences will change you still further, as they did me." Don Diego smiled at his son. "When you return to Los Angeles, you'll be a boy, no longer. You will be a man. A man ready to take on a leadership role in this town, among the _caballeros_." Don Alejandro nodded agreement. 

Don Felipe gazed at Sergio, then paused to ponder that prospect. Suddenly, a teenage boy wearing a light-brown, homespun cotton shirt and a pair of white trousers entered the tavern. Ramon saw him in the same instant Don Felipe did, and rose to meet him. 

"Could I help you?" 

The young man nodded. " _Si, señor._ _Mi padre_ sent me to find the _alcalde_ ; he wants to see him. The sergeant told us we could find the _alcalde_ here in the tavern." 

"I am the _alcalde_." Don Alejandro rose to his feet and approached the boy. "What is your name, _muchacho_?" 

" _Mi llamo_ Sancho Sanchez. My papá wants to see you, _señor_. We've just moved to Los Angeles, and my father needs help to find a place to rent. He used to be a tenant for a big _caballero_ in San Diego, _Señor Alcalde_." 

"Is he outside in the _plaza_?" The boy nodded. 

"I'll go with you, Father." Don Diego rose to his feet. Don Felipe followed suit. Grasping her reticule, Doña Victoria followed. Her brothers and Sergio brought up the rear. 

Sancho led the de la Vegas, the Escalantes, and Sergio outside. A man and a woman stood next to a _burro_ -drawn haycart, in front of the church. "These are my parents," Sancho said. 

The man nodded. "I am Pedro Sanchez, and this is my wife, Maria." 

Don Alejandro introduced himself and his family. "Your son tells us you need help." 

Señor Sanchez nodded again. " _Si, Señor Alcalde,_ we do. We've just moved here, and we need to rent us a farm. Can you help us find one?" 

Don Diego and Don Alejandro glanced at each other, and at Doña Victoria. "I own a large estate west of here," Don Alejandro said. "My son and I would be glad to rent you a plot of land, Señor Sanchez. For a small rent." 

The man turned to his son. "Leave us alone, while we talk." 

" _Si,_ Papá." 

Don Diego turned to Don Felipe and Sergio. "Felipe, Sergio, why don't you keep Sancho company while we discuss the terms of the rent?" 

Don Felipe and Sergio glanced at each other and nodded. " _Si,_ Father," Don Felipe said. "We will." 

_"Si, patrón,"_ Sergio said. 

The two boys led Sancho toward the _plaza_ fountain. For a moment, Sancho gazed at the stands that crowded the edges of the _plaza_ , and the people milling around. He then looked at Don Felipe for a moment. 

"Felipe, are you really a de la Vega?" He glanced at Don Felipe's clothes as he spoke, then stared at his gold signet ring. "You called that _caballero_ 'Father.'" 

Don Felipe glanced down at his shirt, and nodded. "Yes, I am. By adoption." His voice faded to a whisper, so he paused and grasped his left arm with his right hand. "Don Diego and Doña Victoria just recently got married and adopted me. Sergio has taken my place as houseboy." Sergio nodded agreement as Don Felipe paused again. "The de la Vegas are my parents, now," Don Felipe went on. "I'm going to get a new wardrobe; that's why we're in town." Again, his voice sounded like a young child's, so he paused as Sancho stared at him. 

Don Felipe glanced at the tailor shop, then looked at the tavern. "My adoptive mother owned the tavern until last week; now, it belongs to one of her brothers. When did you arrive?" 

"Today." Sancho looked at Sergio. "What is your name--your full name?" 

"Sergio Esperanza. Like Felipe, I'm an orphan." 

Don Felipe nodded. "He was raised by the church till last summer. From the day he was born. The de la Vegas took me in when I was seven years old." 

"That's when his parents died," Sergio added, rubbing his face. "In Mexico. Don Diego found him and brought him here. His mamá and papá were _peons_ \--tenant farmers. Felipe used to be a deaf-mute, but he's not, anymore. He was a servant till last week. Now, the king's ennobled him, and the de la Vegas have adopted him." 

"Ennobled?" Sancho stared at them quizzically. 

_"Si."_ Sergio nodded. "He did a service for the king, so the king gave him a title--he made Felipe a nobleman. A _conde_. That's why he's wearing that signet ring." Sancho glanced at the ring. 

Don Felipe nodded. "I just got back my voice, last week--I was deaf for six years, and mute for ten. I only regained my voice last week; for now, I have trouble making it sound right." 

"Oh." Sancho nodded. 

Don Felipe scratched his arm. "My parents were Juan and Consuela Cortez. We lived near the village of San Miguel de Bajio, in central Mexico, and we were dirt-poor. Had my parents lived, I would live there, now. We--" His voice squeaked, so he cleared his throat. "We were caught in the crossfire of a battle during the revolution, and my parents were killed. I was just seven years old, when that happened." 

"My papá died before I was born," Sergio added. "And my mother died having me. The church has raised me since, until last summer. Now, I have to live with the de la Vegas and work for them till I'm twenty-five. What's brought you here, Sancho?" 

Sancho fidgeted. "My father's made friends with a couple of men, recently. They're tellin' him they can make him rich if he moves here. So, here we are." He grimaced. 

Don Felipe frowned. "Who are these men?" 

Sancho shrugged. "Papá's never introduced us to 'em; I don't know. I've seen them from a distance, though. I didn't want to come here, but one doesn't say so to my father." 

Suddenly, a loud, harsh voice startled the three boys. "Sancho! Get yourself over here! It's time to go." It was Señor Sanchez's voice. 

Wincing, Don Felipe stared at the man for a second. The peasant's weather-beaten face looked harsh and stern. 

Sancho gulped. " _Si,_ Papá!" He turned to Don Felipe and Sergio. "I got to go. _Adios._ " He scurried toward his parents. 

The way Señor Sanchez had ordered his son to rejoin his parents chilled Don Felipe; it reminded him of another man who used to bark harsh commands. A man whom Don Felipe had feared and resented, yet obeyed without question. His father, Juan Cortez, had been harsh, grumpy, nervous, boorish, and tyrannical toward his family until the day he and his wife had died. 

For a long moment, as Don Felipe stood by the _plaza_ fountain, he remembered how his late father used to terrify him repeatedly...holler at himï¿½call him namesï¿½bark commands...slap his face...and whip the boy with a leather strap. Somehow, Don Felipe didn't doubt for a second that Pedro Sanchez treated his family in the same way. When he had stared at Sancho's father, a second earlier, he had seen the same harsh expression on the farmer's face that he had seen, repeatedly, on his own father's face, as a little boy. 

"Felipe!" Don Diego's voice broke Don Felipe's reverie. "It's time to go, son. You, too, Sergio." 

Don Felipe and Sergio hurried toward the carriage. As soon as Don Felipe had taken his seat, the driver shook the horses' reins, and the carriage moved forward. 

"Felipe? Is something troubling you?" Don Alejandro gazed at him. 

Don Felipe looked at his grandfather and nodded. "Did--did--" His voice came out in a whisper, so he paused. "Did you hear the way Sancho's father spoke to him?" 

Don Alejandro nodded. "I did, indeed; we all did. He didn't speak in a very gentle manner, did he? But some men are just that way, Felipe." He smiled at Don Diego. "Not all men are like your father, you know--kind and gentle." 

Don Felipe grimaced. "He certainly isn't! He's more like my late papá was. Boorish and hot-tempered, especially when he was drunk. And tyrannical. Always tyrannical." 

Doña Victoria stared at her son and furrowed her eyebrows. "You've never told us about your papá, son. Was he like that?" 

Don Felipe nodded. " _Si._ He was hard to live with. His name was Juan Cortez. And my mother's name was Consuela." The de la Vegas nodded; the late Paco Lopez, Felipe's godfather, had told the boy his parents' names when he was first reunited with Paco and his nephew, Rafael. The boy gazed at the distant San Gabriel Mountains. Overhead, an eagle screeched as it soared across the sky. 

"And what was your mother like?" Don Diego furrowed his eyebrows in concern. 

Don Felipe smiled. "She was a saint. Kind and gentle. She took me to church and taught me to pray. She worked hard and took good care of me. I--" His voice squeaked again. He paused, fidgeting. "I was devoted to her--she was my security. I told you, years ago, that she bequeathed me her rosary, the day she died." His parents and grandfather nodded. 

Don Felipe described all he could remember of his father, his disposition, and his treatment of his wife and son. "He scared me a lot," he said, at the end. "I was so afraid of him. I feared him--and resented him." He paused. "Señor Sanchez treats his family the same way, Grandfather. I sense it." 

Don Alejandro and Don Diego glanced at each other, soberly. "There's not much we can do about him, if you're right," Don Alejandro said. "But we will keep an eye on the situation, and befriend the Sanchezes as much as we can. Sancho, especially, could use a friend. If I know you, son, I know that you and Sergio and Rafael Lopez will be true friends to Sancho." 

Don Felipe nodded. "I will try." He reclined against the velvet seat, pondering for several moments. "If it hadn't been for my mamá, the _padre_ , and Godfather Lopez, I couldn't have stood life with my papá very well. I've told you about my mamá, and you had the chance to know my godfather." The de la Vegas nodded agreement. "And the priest--Padre Pablo--was a great friend of mine. He told me stories about the Bible and about the saints, and he helped me cope with my father when he hurt me. Before my confirmation, he made me learn how to sacrifice. And Rafael--well, as you know, he was a wonderful playmate." 

Don Alejandro and Don Diego glanced at each other and chuckled. Don Felipe could see that neither of them doubted him for a minute. Paco Lopez, who had died a week before the arrival of Gilberto Risendo, had been Felipe's godfather; he, his late wife, and their orphaned nephew, Rafael, had rented a tenant farm next to the Cortezes' near San Miguel de Bajio. Paco, who was kind and gentle by nature, had frequently entertained his godson and nephew by telling them stories and playing songs on his mandolin. Paco Lopez and Rafael had moved to Los Angeles the previous spring, in an effort to flee their wicked, unjust _patrón_. Now Rafael rented and tilled the two-acre plot of land his late uncle had rented from the de la Vegas, and Felipe and the de la Vegas visited him often. 

When the de la Vegas arrived at the _hacienda_ , Don Diego led the way inside. As the family entered the drawing room, Don Diego turned to Sergio. "Would you please fetch the object I told you about, and bring it here?" 

_"Si, patrón."_ Sergio scampered out of the room. His woven-leather sandals clicked on the gleaming marble floor. 

"Stay here, Felipe," Don Diego told his son. "Your grandfather and I have a gift for you. Sergio's gone to my room to get it." He inserted his thumbs into his vest pockets as he spoke. 

Minutes later, Sergio returned with a small, polished cedar box in his right hand. He handed it to Don Diego. Don Felipe gazed at the box, wondering what could be inside. 

Don Diego glanced at his father, who nodded. He approached his son, and, with an affectionate smile, he squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Felipe, my son, 10 years ago, when your mother died, she bequeathed you a family heirloom you've treasured ever since." Don Felipe nodded. 

Don Diego smiled again. "Neither my father nor I have ever had to tell you to pray with your rosary--you've done that faithfully for the past 10 years. And I know you take seriously your late mother's injunction to bequeath it to your own children, someday." 

Don Felipe nodded. He did, indeed. 

"Well, my son, we de la Vegas have our own heirloom we wish to give you, too. And we've decided not to wait until our deaths to bequeath it." Don Felipe stared at his father as Don Diego spoke. 

Don Diego handed his son the cedar box. "Inside, Felipe, is a solid gold timepiece that was once given to your grandfather by King Carlos III, before I was born. It was a reward for valor on the battlefield. When I went to Madrid, my father gave it to me as a going-away present. We have both taken care of it all these years, and it works as well, now, as it did when it was first given to your grandfather." 

He smiled at Felipe tenderly. "Now, it's yours. My father had it freshly engraved with your name, last week. Your new adoptive name." 

Speechless, Don Felipe lifted the box's lid and stared at the gleaming timepiece. He lifted the lid of the timepiece and silently read the inscription engraved on the inside. He then gaped at his father and grandfather. 

"Now, you have _two_ family heirlooms to cherish, son," Don Alejandro said, softly, clasping his hands behind his back. "One from your late mother's family, and one from ours. This really makes you one of the family." 

Don Felipe threw his arms around Don Diego. After giving his adoptive father a long hug, he embraced his adoptive grandfather. _"Gracias!"_ His voice sounded husky. "I'll take good care of it. I promise." He glanced down at his clothes as he spoke. "I'm--I'm afraid to wear it, just yet." His voice came out in a whisper. 

Don Diego laughed and rested a hand on Don Felipe's shoulder. "Don't worry about that, my son. Just hold onto the timepiece, and keep it in your bedroom until your new clothes arrive." Don Felipe nodded agreement. 

As the boy closed the box's lid, he asked, "Are you--are you going to rent the Sanchezes a plot of land?" 

Don Alejandro nodded. "Tomorrow morning. I've given Señor Sanchez directions to our _hacienda_. Your father and I are going to take him and his family to the place I've picked for them. It's not far from Rafael's." 

"I think it'd be a good idea, Felipe, if you came with us." Don Diego gazed at the boy. "Someday, you'll be making these decisions and meeting the needs of your tenants." 

Felipe nodded. " _Si,_ Father. I would like to see Sancho, again." 

The next morning, the de la Vegas showed the Sanchez family the plot of land promised them. The fertility of the land pleased Señor Sanchez, and the stately trees and the proximity of the creek pleased his wife. The day after, and every day for a week, de la Vega ranchhands showed up to help Señor Sanchez build an _adobe_ hut. 

Each day during that period, the de la Vegas, Rafael, and Sergio stopped by to help; Don Felipe, Rafael, and Sergio kept Sancho company the whole time. The three boys played together part of the time, and helped the men build the hut the rest of the time. Within a week, the hut was finished, and the Sanchez family moved in. 

The morning after the Sanchezes had moved into their new home, Don Felipe slept late. When he woke up, he was alarmed to see that the sun had risen considerably into the sky. He pushed back the soft bedcovers. _I've overslept!_ he thought. 

As he hopped out of bed, he found a note on the polished mahogany bureau. It stated, "Stay in your room, Felipe. Don't leave it until we say you may, and don't get dressed. Ring the bell if you're hungry; one of the maids will bring you breakfast. We have some surprises for you." 

Don Felipe grinned. "I think I know what those surprises are," he whispered to himself. "My new wardrobe must have arrived." He paused. "I'd better say my prayers and read my three chapters in my Bible, before I eat." 

After he had put on his brown woolen dressing gown and bed shoes, he finished his devotions and rang the bell. A few minutes later, a maid brought him a gleaming, ornate silver tray laden with food. 

"Your father says to stay in here until he tells you to come out." She laid the tray on a table in front of the silk brocade couch. 

"Have my--" Don Felipe's voice squeaked, so he cleared his throat. "Have my new clothes arrived?" 

The maid nodded. " _Si,_ but that's not the only surprise." She opened the drapes. 

Don Felipe paused to think about that while Elena made his bed. When he spoke again, his voice sounded funny to his ears. "Doesn't it feel weird, Elena, to be treating me like a _caballero_ and not like a fellow servant?" 

The maid straightened the corner of the navy-blue satin quilt. Straightening up, she gazed at Don Felipe for a long moment. She smiled, a mixture of affection and amusement in her brown eyes. "Not really, Felipe. We've known since June that they were going to adopt you, you know; we've been prepared for this change for months. And for years, we've expected it." 

Don Felipe stared at her. "You _have_? _All_ of you?" The maid nodded. "Why? You never told me!" His voice squeaked. 

The maid laughed. "No, we didn't; that wouldn't have been fair to you, as long as the de la Vegas wouldn't tell you. But yes, we have. The de la Vegas gave you more learning than most servants ever get. You were far closer to them than most servants are to their masters. And they expected more of you in manners and lessons than they ever expected of the rest of us. We've all sensed, ever since you were a small boy, that one day, you would be joining the family." 

She paused, looking thoughtful. "We don't sense that about Sergio, you know. They'll be kind to him; they won't mistreat him or overwork him. They'll pay him fairly for his work, and take good care of him. And they'll expect the rest of us to be good to him." Don Felipe nodded agreement. "But they'll never admit him so deep into their hearts as they did you. They will not raise him to someday become a _caballero_. You've been given a rare privilege, _amigo_." She smiled at the boy and left the room, leaving the door ajar. 

Don Felipe thought about that, for a moment. _She's right,_ he thought, as he sat down to eat. _Father, himself, told me he couldn't adopt every orphan he meets. Usually, if the de la Vegas find an orphan, they send him to the orphanage, or they find him a home and pay the family that takes him a regular income for his keep. That's what they tried to do for me, in the beginning._

Don Felipe bowed his head. "Bless me, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which I am about to receive from Thy bounty through Christ my Lord. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen." He made the sign of the cross and raised his head. He spread his napkin on his lap and took a sip of the milk. 

After the boy had eaten his breakfast, he bowed his head again. "I give Thee thanks, Almighty God, for these and all Thy gifts, which I have received from Thy bounty through Christ my Lord. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen." 

Don Felipe rang the bell. The maid returned to fetch his tray. A moment later, Sergio entered the room and leaned against the dull-yellow wall. 

"Don Diego said to tell you it won't be long, now," he announced. "He wants you to be patient just a bit longer. In the meantime, he wants me to keep you company, and he wants you to shave." He grinned broadly, and fidgeted with suppressed excitement. 

Don Felipe grinned back. "I guess I'd better shave, then." 

When he had finished shaving, Don Felipe sat down with Sergio on the bed; the mattress sagged and creaked underneath them. For the next 15 minutes, they chatted and roughhoused. 

Suddenly, the mahogany door swung open. Don Diego stepped into his son's bedroom. "Felipe, my son, come with us down the hall. We have something to show you." 

Don Felipe stared at Sergio as the two boys followed Don Diego out the door. Several doors down the hall, Don Diego paused and gestured. Don Felipe and Sergio entered the bedroom, where they found Don Alejandro and Doña Victoria waiting inside, with broad smiles. 

When Don Diego followed the boys in, Don Felipe gaped at him. "This--this is a _suite_!" His voice squeaked, again. "It's beautiful!" 

"That's right, son." Don Diego put an arm around Felipe's shoulders. "A bedroom, a sitting room, and a dressing room, all for you. From now on, this suite is yours." Don Diego hugged his son to his side and beamed on the boy. "The servants have already put your new clothes in the dressing room. Even now, as we speak, they're packing your old clothes for removal, and packing the rest of your things to bring in here." 

Don Felipe gaped at his father. "What--what will happen to my--my old clothes?" 

"They will be returned to the church. And that includes the nightshirt, dressing gown, and bed shoes you've got on." 

"Oh." Don Felipe nodded. "To give to other orphans." 

"Yes." 

With a smile, Don Alejandro inserted his thumbs into his vest pockets. "Felipe, before the servants bring your things into your new suite of rooms, why don't you get dressed? Your mother and I will wait for you in here--your father and Sergio are going to help you put your clothes on." The boy nodded acquiescence. 

Don Diego and Sergio escorted Don Felipe into the dressing room, where Don Felipe found a suit of clothes lying on a chair. Don Felipe gazed at each item of clothing for a long moment, then swallowed. 

_These clothes are_ mine _!_ he thought. _These are the clothes of a_ caballero _!_ He swallowed again. _How did my life change so dramatically? First, I lose my parents and work for a_ caballero _; then I_ become _one!_

"Son, we think the best way for you to make the adjustment to your new life is to jump right in, head-first. So, we've decided to dress you in one of your vests and frock coats." Don Diego patted his shoulder. "You'll wear all four of your frock coats and tailcoats for the first eight days, and then you'll wear your _charro_ jackets--one a day--until you've worn them all." 

Don Felipe nodded his acquiescence. He didn't trust himself to speak, and for once, his father didn't order him to. 

Don Diego turned to Sergio and clasped his hands behind his back. " _Amigo,_ you'll help him dress from now on. But for this first time, _I_ will. Watch me carefully, and hand me each item when I ask for it." 

_"Si, patrón."_

Don Diego chuckled at his son's dumbstruck expression. "I have a third surprise for you, my son. Just as you used to be my valet, henceforth, Sergio, here, will be yours. Now that Zorro is no longer needed, Sergio's services in the cave won't be, either. So Father has hired a houseman to replace you both." 

"Who?" Don Felipe gaped at him. 

Don Diego's eyes twinkled as he motioned to his son to remove his woolen dressing gown and bed shoes. "It's one who's been most faithful to my father, all these years. One who's served your grandfather as faithfully and well as you used to serve me." 

Don Felipe and Sergio grinned at each other. "Manuel!" they said, in unison. Don Felipe handed Sergio his dressing gown. He reached down to take off his bed shoes. He handed them to Sergio, then began to remove his nightshirt. 

Don Diego nodded. "Yes. Manuel. My father has decided to promote him, Sergio, and to hire a new valet, so that you'll be free to devote your services to Felipe, here." 

Don Felipe and Sergio beamed at each other, and Sergio's eyes shone. When Don Felipe handed him his nightshirt, Sergio took the nightshirt, bed shoes, and dressing gown into the bedroom. Don Diego and Don Felipe waited for him to return. 

When Sergio returned, the procedure began. With Don Diego's help, Don Felipe donned a pair of white woolen socks, a pair of pale-blue trousers, and a snow-white silk shirt with ruffled sleeves and a ruffle down the front. With his father's help, the boy tugged over his socks a pair of dark-brown boots made of quality leather. He inserted the legs of his trousers into his new boots. 

The boy slipped on a dark-blue satin vest, then his father tied around his neck a navy-blue silk cravat. Don Diego helped his son attach the end of the gold chain of his new timepiece to one of the vest's pearl buttons. Don Felipe dropped the timepiece itself into one of the vest pockets. 

Sergio handed Don Felipe a pale-blue frock coat, embroidered with gilt braid. Don Diego helped his son put it on. 

When Don Felipe had pulled the crisp, ruffled sleeves out over the wrists of his frock coat, Sergio handed him his rosary, his crucifix, a white linen handkerchief, and a white pair of gloves. Under Don Diego's direction, Don Felipe inserted each object into one of his pockets. Sergio handed his friend a comb. 

"This first time, my son, let me comb your hair," Don Diego insisted. "I want you to wait until you're well-groomed before you look in the mirror." He carefully combed his son's brown hair as Don Felipe stood still. 

At last, Don Diego handed the comb to Sergio and smiled. "All right, son--look in the mirror!" 

Don Felipe slowly approached the full-length gilt-edged mirror set up across the room from the entrance. For a moment, he gaped at his reflection, then gazed down at himself. 

For the first time in his 17 years, Felipe did not look like a peasant. He did not slouch like one; he did not dress like one. In the mirror, Felipe saw the image of a young _caballero_. Even as he stared at himself, he squared his shoulders unconsciously, as the de la Vegas had taken pains to teach him to do. 

_I look more like the noblemen in my father and grandfather's portraits than I do old Felipe Cortez,_ he thought. _My adoptive mother's right. Seeing myself in these fancy clothes makes it real to me--more than any other change has--that my old peasant days are really over. I am a_ caballero _, a_ don _, and a titled nobleman, the_ Conde de _Bajio. I am a de la Vega!_

Slowly, Don Felipe turned around. He gazed at his father and his new valet, and grinned. 

Smiling broadly, Don Diego approached his son and embraced him for a long moment. "These new clothes become you, son," he said, softly. "You look nice." His eyes shone with warmth and pride. 

"You sure do," Sergio agreed. "You _look_ like a de la Vega, now!" 

Don Diego nodded agreement. "Th--thank you," Don Felipe whispered. "And I thank the good Lord, too." 

"We all do." Don Diego's expression turned serious. "Felipe, my son, these new clothes you own, and that signet ring you wear, carry a responsibility you've never had to face, before." Felipe glanced down at his new frock coat and vest, then looked at his gold signet ring. 

"Had you grown up to be a _peon_ farmer--which would have been your fate, had your parents lived--your main responsibilities would have been to support and take care of your family, to pay your debts and taxes, and to obey and respect your _patrón_. As our servant, your responsibility was to obey and respect my father and me, and to do your duties faithfully and well." His son nodded agreement. 

Don Diego fixed his eyes on his adoptive son's face for a long moment. "Felipe, what I have to say is very important, so listen carefully. As a _caballero_ \--as a titled nobleman--and as a de la Vega, my son and heir, you will, from now on, have responsibilities no servant or poor farmer need worry about. It will fall to you, someday, to make sure your tenants, ranchhands, and servants have what they need; as their _patrón_ , you'll have to see to their welfare--the Sanchezes, for example. And Sergio, here. And your old friend, Rafael." Don Felipe glanced at his friend. "Furthermore, you will have duties toward the _pueblo_ , itself. After all, as a de la Vega, you'll be a leader among the _caballeros_." Don Felipe nodded. 

Don Diego paused. "Unlike my father and myself, my son, you were born a peasant. Therefore, you have a unique advantage we lack: as a former peasant, the son of a _peon_ , you'll understand, as we cannot, what your tenants are going through, the hardships they suffer. You have an empathy your grandfather and I can never share, because we were born to wealth and privilege, and can only try to imagine what poverty is like." 

Don Diego raised his finger for emphasis. "Never forget where you came from, Felipe. Never forget what it was like, the hardships you and your parents endured. Always remember your beginnings and be proud of them; don't let anyone put you down because you were born to a poor family. Use that empathy for the good of the poor, son, and you will be able to help them in a way no one else can. Do you understand?" 

Don Felipe nodded, and looked down at his clothes again. " _Si,_ Father. I--I do." He gazed at his signet ring. 

His father smiled approvingly. "Good. Your grandfather and I have decided to teach you about these things now, instead of waiting till you return from Europe, years from now. For that reason, we've assigned Sergio to look after you. It will be his job to take charge of your wardrobe, to lay out your clothes every day, to help you dress if necessary, and to perform any service for you that you need. It will be yours, son, to see to his welfare. Don't oppress or exploit him, or otherwise take advantage of him, because he works for you. Remember how your grandfather and I treat our servants--how we always treated you--and follow our example. Understand?" 

Don Felipe nodded again. _Father's right,_ he thought. _I'm a de la Vega now, and I must act like one. But,_ Santa Maria, _to go through so many changes and face so many new responsibilities is dizzying and unnerving!_ He glanced down at his frock coat and ring, for the third time. 

"Well, son, what do you want to do, today?" 

Don Felipe thought a minute. " _Por favor,_ Father, may Sergio and I visit Sancho this afternoon? After _siesta_? And then, may we visit Rafael? I want to show him my new clothes!" 

Don Diego laughed. "I have no objection, but I want to give you boys your fencing lessons, first. Today, Felipe, you shall have your first lesson in using a saber, now that your ankle's healed. And Sergio, you shall start your lessons with a foil, as Felipe did." Sergio nodded. The boys grinned at each other. 

"In the meantime, this morning, we'll go to town--after you show yourself to your mother and grandmother, that is, and Sergio and I show you the rest of your new clothes. It's market day, and we need to pick up some vegetables." 

In the bedroom, Don Felipe stood on display before his admiring mother and grandfather, who complimented him on his appearance. Back in the dressing room, for the next 15 minutes, Don Felipe went through the closets and dressers in his dressing room, gazing at, admiring, and fingering his elegant new clothes. Broadcloth and velvet coats, jackets, and trousers, and velvet and satin vests hung in his closets. In one closet, two extra pairs of polished leather boots stood on the gleaming marble floor. 

Silk and fine linen ruffled shirts lay folded in many of the dresser drawers. In one dresser, several silk and linen nightshirts lay folded. Three silk dressing gowns lay folded in another. 

At last, Don Diego sent Sergio out to get the horses ready. By then, Don Felipe's belongings had been brought to his new rooms and neatly arranged. Don Felipe spent the next five minutes going from room to room, admiring each one. 

Half an hour later, in the _plaza_ , Don Felipe and Sergio helped Don Diego buy some vegetables. The men and women who sold the de la Vegas their vegetables complimented Don Felipe on his new clothes. After Don Diego had paid for each purchase, the three spent a half-hour in the tavern, where Ramon, Franciso, Sergeant Mendoza, and some _caballeros_ shook Don Felipe's hand and congratulated him on his new wardrobe. 

That afternoon, after the boys' fencing lessons, Don Felipe and Sergio rode their horses to the Sanchez farm. They found Sancho outside, raking hay. 

_"Santa Maria!"_ the boy exclaimed, throwing down his rake. It landed in the dust with a thud. "Felipe, look at you! Your new clothes arrived, _si_?" 

Don Felipe glanced down at his new clothes and grinned. "This morning." 

Sergio nodded. "From now on, Sancho, I'm his valet. I have to take care of his clothes and do other things for him. But we're still friends, too. He treats me like a little brother." He grinned, and Don Felipe nodded agreement. 

"Where--where are your parents?" Don Felipe scanned the yard as he spoke. He didn't look forward to seeing Pedro Sanchez. He glanced briefly at two crates stacked near the barn. 

Sancho glanced at the hut. "My father's gone to town, and my mother's inside. Come in with me." 

Don Felipe smiled as he looked around. "It's so nice out here, Sancho. The breeze feels so good." The others boys smiled in agreement. 

At that moment, a _baaa!_ from the barn startled Don Felipe. _The goats,_ he thought. _They're inside the barn._ Sancho grinned. 

"We've got chickens, too, now, and a pig, thanks to Don Alejandro." Sancho pointed at the barn, then led his visitors inside. 

As Don Felipe stepped across the threshold, Señora Sanchez gaped at him. "You look like a _caballero, amigo_." 

Don Felipe looked down at his clothes again. "Everyone's been telling me that, today." His voice sounded like a little boy's. 

Señora Sanchez nodded. "Your father's told my husband and me about your adoption. Congratulations. Won't you boys sit down, and I'll pour you some milk?" 

Don Felipe, Sergio, and Sancho perched on the hard, unyielding pine benches at the table. Señora Sanchez served each boy a clay cup of goat's milk. As Don Felipe sipped his, he gazed at the hut. He looked at the two narrow bunk beds built into the right wall, the fireplace that stood across the room from the entrance, and the rolled-up straw mat that leaned against the left wall. Don Diego suspected that Sancho slept on that mat. 

_It looks lived in,_ he thought. _They've moved all their things inside. You'd never guess it was only built this last week. These_ adobe _huts are much nicer than the wattle-and-daub hut my late parents owned._

Sancho grinned at his mother. "My mother is hardworking and good. She'd do anything for me." Señora Sanchez blushed and smiled at her son. 

Don Felipe nodded. "My late mamá was the same way." 

As Señora Sanchez took each boy's cup, minutes later, a man's voice hollered, "Where's Sancho? Why isn't that lazy boy outside, doin' his chores?" Sancho turned pale. He gulped and made the sign of the cross. 

Señor Sanchez stumbled into the hut and glared at his wife and son. He then stared at the visitors. "Maria! Make me somethin' to eat!" he ordered. Señora Sanchez nodded, tight-lipped, and set a pot on the fire. 

"And you!" Señor Sanchez glared at his son. "Every day since we came here, you've been doin' your chores slipshod! Now, you go outside and do 'em right! You hear?" 

Trembling, Sancho leaped to his feet and scuttled outside. Don Felipe and Sergio, meanwhile, sat quietly at the table, hoping not to attract the man's attention. 

Señor Sanchez plopped onto a pine bench and glared at the two visitors. For a moment, he stared at Don Felipe's new clothes. "When'd you turn _caballero_ , _muchacho_?" 

Don Felipe suppressed a frown of disapproval at the man's tactless question. "The de la Vegas adopted me recently, remember? I'm their son, now," he said, quietly. "My new clothes were delivered this morning." His voice faded to a whisper as he spoke. 

The man grunted as his wife set before him a clay bowl of steaming soup. "You rich people are so soft and spoiled. The people who adopted you probably never done a day's work in their lives! Your papá's so weak, so--soo--" He broke off. "And your mother's so--so--if _I_ was her husband, I'd put her in her place! Here, I'm master, and my wife and son obey me." He stared at his wife as he spoke. 

Don Felipe paused for a moment, to weigh his words. He rubbed the back of his neck and prayed silently that his voice would remain steady. "My adoptive father is gentle and loving. But he's _not_ weak." He paused again, and silently prayed again. "As for my adoptive mother--yes, she is strong-willed. She's had to be; life's been hard for her. But she's ladylike and compassionate." To his relief, his voice did not falter. 

The man grimaced. "Not a proper lady if she's strong-willed. Mark my words, boy: strong-willed women are nothin' but trouble!" 

He glared at his wife, who said nothing. "Hear this! Soon, my new friends are goin' to make us rich. And when they do, I don't want my family disgracin' and shamin' me! You hear, woman?" Maria sighed and nodded as he picked up the wooden spoon. 

Don Felipe's stomach turned queasy. His heart churned as he watched the man bark orders and slurp his soup. Clearly, Pedro Sanchez was most unpleasant to live with, especially when he was drunk. 

Like Juan Cortez. 

Suddenly, Don Felipe heard a loud thud outside. Cursing loudly, Señor Sanchez leaped to his feet, knocking the bench on its side, and stormed out the door. Don Felipe's heart pounded with fear for Sancho. Sergio's face looked pale, and his lower lip trembled. Señora Sanchez wrung her hands. 

Don Felipe rushed toward the door. As he stepped outside, he saw Sancho's father shaking his son violently by the shoulders. "You stupid clumsy! You lazy oaf! You _baboso_ , when will you learn to be more careful?!" 

He clouted Sancho's face so hard, the boy staggered backwards. Off to the side, the now-overturned crates lay on their sides. Evidently, Sancho had inadvertently knocked them down. 

Don Felipe winced to see his friend punished so viciously just for having an accident. As the young _caballero_ watched the man strike his son's face again and again, boy's stomach turned nauseous. For a moment, he had to struggle not to vomit up the milk he had drunk. Next to him, Sergio clapped his hands over his eyes. Don Felipe put his arm protectively around Sergio's shoulders. 

_He reminds me of Papá,_ Don Felipe thought. _Papá used to hit me, too. Just as Señor Sanchez does Sancho. It's awful!_ His hands shook. 

A terrible event from the recesses of Don Felipe's memory slammed into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to shut out the memory, but it did no good. Instead, the memory shut out everything else... 

_"Felipe!" Juan Cortez stood in the doorway of the one-room wattle-and-daub hut, just underneath the straw thatch that covered the roof. "Pour me some_ pulque _. And_ don't _spill it like you did, last time!"_

"S--si, _Papá!"_

_The five-year-old boy picked up the clay jug and a dark-brown clay cup. He carefully poured some of the alcoholic beverage, distilled from the juice of the maguey cactus, into his father's cup. He knew to be careful; his father had whipped him before, for spilling the_ pulque _._

_As Juan squatted down on a sitting mat, made of reeds, Felipe slowly carried the cup with both hands to his father. The only light in the hut poured through the doorway, forming a solid bar of sunlight on the hard-packed dirt floor. The boy held out the cup; when his father took hold of it, the cup slipped through Juan's hands and bounced off his left trouser leg._ Pulque _spilled on his white, unbleached cotton trousers and onto the dirt floor._

_With his face contorted with rage, Juan leaped to his feet and slapped Felipe, who screamed and staggered backward. "You little clumsy; I_ told _you not to spill it!" Juan's face had turned red, then purple; a vein pulsated in his neck. He slapped Felipe again, then grabbed Felipe's right earlobe._

_"Ow!" the boy cried, as pain exploded in his ear. His mother stared at him and his father in horror._

_"You're goin' to get it, young man! Come with me!"_

_Juan dragged his whimpering son outside and toward the barn. Inside, he released the boy's ear, only to grab his upper arm. With a vicious yank that made Felipe's shoulder feel as if it were being pulled right out of its socket, Juan jerked the little boy down to the ground. The landing knocked the breath out of Felipe, who winced in pain and rubbed his throbbing earlobe. His face throbbed incessantly where Juan had struck it._

_As Felipe lay trembling on his stomach, he prayed silently that his father would not be able to find the leather strap, or that he would be too tired to whip his son. Even as Felipe prayed, he knew from experience that his prayer would go unanswered. Not only would Juan Cortez find the strap in its usual spot, he would give Felipe more than 10 blows with it. The blows would leave the boy's back, legs, and hips riddled with red, raw stripes that would be painful to touch and slowly turn bluish-purple. And the boy would be in sheer agony during the beating, and afterward. The terrified boy squeezed his eyes shut._

_A clinking sound told Felipe that his father had found the leather strap and lifted it off its peg. A wide strip of metal lined the end that hung from the nail; a hole was bored through the metal strip. As the man strode toward his son, Felipe listened to the thuds of his father's woven-leather sandals._

_"You will_ obey _me, Felipe!' Juan shouted, as a_ whish! _told the boy that his father was flinging the strap backward. "You_ will _do as I say, even if it_ kills _you!" A_ swoosh! _told Felipe that his father was swinging the strap toward the boy's back. Felipe tensed every muscle and screamed in terror..._

"Felipe?" The woman patted his cheek. "My husband has just passed out." She pointed at her husband, who lay sprawled on the ground, snoring. "He won't remember any of this when he wakes up. I promise you." 

Don Felipe stared at her. "How--how is Sancho?" he whispered. "Is he badly hurt?" He looked at his friend as he spoke. Tears streaked down Sancho's newly-reddened cheeks as the boy snuffled. 

Señora Sanchez's sigh told Don Felipe volumes. "Actually, he--he got off lucky. It could have been a lot worse." She tried to smile. 

Don Felipe grimaced. He could see that. 

"Is Señor Sanchez always like this?" Sergio's voice shook. 

Señora Sanchez nodded. "He's always worse when he's drunk, though." 

_Like Papá,_ Don Felipe thought. A knot of anger welled up in him. Taking a deep breath, he approached Sancho and clasped him for a long moment, as the boy struggled not to cry. Sergio stood nearby and watched, fear and concern evident in his eyes. 

_Use your empathy for the good of the poor, son, and you'll be able to help them in a way no one else can._ As Don Diego's admonition rushed to the forefront of his thoughts, Don Felipe winced. 

_How?_ his heart cried out. _How can I use my empathy to help Sancho? What can I do about his father?_

He let go of Sancho and stepped back. Sergio tried to smile. " _Gracias,_ Felipe." 

Señora Sanchez put a hand on each visiting boy's shoulder. "You better go, you two, before he wakes up. I want to thank you for makin' friends with my son. He needs friends." 

Don Felipe and Sergio tried to smile. "Sergio and I want to be his friends, _señora,_ " Don Felipe said, and Sergio nodded agreement. Sancho smiled gratefully. 

Don Felipe glanced down at his brand-new frock coat as he and Sergio trudged toward the horses. Before Don Felipe climbed up on Emilio, he turned to look at the Sanchezes. " _Adios,_ Sancho. I'll come back, soon." Sergio waved good-bye, and the Sanchezes waved back. 

A half-hour later, back at the _hacienda_ , Don Felipe and Sergio stood on the porch, telling Felipe's parents and grandfather what had happened at the Sanchez farm during their visit. "Sancho is afraid of his father," Don Felipe said. "His--his father hurts him." His voice faded again; he cleared his throat. "Just as my father used to hurt me." 

Don Alejandro shook his head and led the way inside, his boots clicking on the gleaming marble floor. His grandson trudged into the spacious entrance and leaned against the wall. As Don Alejandro sighed, he pressed his lips into a tight line, a sign that he was deeply displeased. "It grieves me to hear this, boys. It truly does. My heart goes out to the boy and his mother. How they must suffer!" 

Don Felipe smiled at the elderly _caballero_ gratefully. "You're a kind, good man, Grandfather. You, too, Father." He paused to glance briefly at his pale-blue frock coat and dark-blue satin vest, then gazed at his gold signet ring. "Father, you told me to use my empathy to help the poor. Is there anything we can do to help Sancho and his mother?" He looked beseechingly from his father to his mother, and then to his grandfather, as he spoke. To his relief, his voice came out strong and clear. 

Don Alejandro glanced at Don Diego and shook his head. "Unfortunately, son, no. It isn't our place to interfere between a man and his family. But we _will_ befriend them as much as we can. From what you've told us, they need our friendship desperately." Don Diego and Doña Victoria nodded agreement. 

Don Diego rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "It pleases me to see your yearning to alleviate that family's suffering, son," Don Diego said, gently. "Rest assured, we'll do all we can for them." 

During the months that followed, the de la Vegas and Sergio did just that. They gave the Sanchez family corn, beans, and _chili_ peppers, to tide them over until Señor Sanchez could harvest a crop. To his sorrow, Don Felipe soon learned that the family was totally illiterate, and that Señor Sanchez refused to even consider letting his son learn to read or write. The de la Vega men spent much time with Señor Sanchez, and Doña Victoria visited Señora Sanchez frequently. 

Don Felipe and Sergio came to see Sancho as often as the weather permitted, after Don Felipe had finished his daily lessons. Frequently, Rafael came with them; silently, Felipe wished that Godfather Lopez were still alive to befriend Sancho as well. Privately, Señora Sanchez told Don Felipe, Rafael, and Sergio that their visits always cheered up her son. _I hope so,_ Don Felipe thought. 

As Don Felipe spent much time with the family, his worst fears were confirmed. Pedro Sanchez was, in temperament, exactly like Juan Cortez. Being with the man was, for Don Felipe, like being with his late papá once more. And seeing the man oppress his wife and son opened old wounds in Felipe's heart he had hoped were healed. 

Again and again, during or after a visit to the Sanchez farm, Don Felipe had to fight off memories of his own father yelling at him, slapping and/or beating him, and hurting his wife. Or just plain not being there for Felipe when Felipe had needed him. The memories of his father always hurt; only the memory of Juan's efforts to save his family from certain death during the battle that had killed him, felt good. As a result of his own re-opened emotional wounds, he hurt for Sancho. 

_My new clothes gave me a responsibility to help the poor,_ he thought, repeatedly. _Somehow, I've just got to help Sancho! He shouldn't have to suffer like this._ Frustration because his hands were tied would well up in Don Felipe. _I know exactly how he feels, how much he hurts, how scared he is of his father. How can I use my empathy to help him? I want to--I've_ got _to! But how?_

From time to time, two men came to visit the boy's father, and the three men would go off together. Sancho always told his new friends about it afterwards. "My father says those men are goin' to make us rich, but I don't see how," he would say. "They sure don't _look_ rich!" 

In the meantime, Don Felipe wore a different jacket or coat every day. After he had worn his four frock coats and four tailcoats for the first eight days, he wore each of his _charro_ jackets, until he had worn them all. For the first time, he participated in parties as a de la Vega and not as a servant. During November, the de la Vegas held several parties in his honor, to celebrate his adoption and ennoblement. Don Felipe made sure that Rafael was invited to each one. 

To Don Felipe's relief, his voice slowly stabilized. All the while, he continued his studies in the mornings, and his art, music, and fencing lessons in the afternoons. Every morning, before breakfast, he read three chapters in the Bible and prayed with his rosary. Now that Don Felipe could play the piano and guitar proficiently, his father taught him to play the violin. And he and his father took turns teaching Sergio to fence with a foil. 

Once a week, as he had done since the de la Vegas had hired him, Don Felipe had to perform a regular farm task for two or three hours. Once a week, he and his family visited the ranchhands at work. Once a week, he and his parents visited one of the tenant farms. And whenever one of Don Alejandro's tenants fell sick, the boy went with his parents to take that tenant some food and supplies. All this he had done throughout his time as servant boy, but now, as an adopted de la Vega, these duties of his took on a whole new meaning. 

Since much of November was stormy, neither boy could go outside much of the time, except when they engaged in the duties that required it. Don Felipe spent his free time reading, carving, drawing or painting pictures. He played the piano, guitar, and violin; he played checkers, chess, or cards with members of his family. He helped his father with his scientific experiments. And he played with Sergio. 

Sergio served Don Felipe as faithfully as Don Felipe had served Don Diego. The younger boy saw to it that Don Felipe's clothes were kept clean and mended, and he laid out the older boy's clothes every morning. In return, Don Felipe treated Sergio with kindness and genuine affection, and played with him often. He never forgot that Sergio was an orphan like himself, who needed to feel loved and secure. Don Felipe exerted himself to treat the younger boy like a brother as well as his servant. 

Christmas came and went. Until then, the de la Vegas had stood in as guardians for Felipe on Christmas Day and Epiphany every year, so he had eaten the big holiday dinner with them and opened his gifts with them as well. Since this, however, was Don Felipe's first Christmas as a de la Vega and not as a servant, the others wanted to make it an especially nice Christmas for him, so they gave him lots of gifts. Don Felipe, for his part, went to great lengths to give nice presents to his new family and to Rafael. 

Don Diego's cousin, Don Rafael, who owned a horse ranch in Santa Barbara, his wife, Margarita, and their two young children spent the holidays with them. So did Ramon and Francisco. Rafael Lopez ate Christmas dinner with them at Don Diego's invitation, since the de la Vegas realized that it had been the Cortezes and the Lopezes' custom to celebrate holidays and other special events together, and the two boys wanted to continue that custom. 

As always, the family attended the yearly Christmas Eve party at the tavern, and then attended midnight mass at the church. Sergio attended both events with his _patróns_ , as did Rafael. The family opened gifts twice: on Christmas Day and on Epiphany. 

One afternoon, in early February, Don Felipe and Sergio rode to the Sanchez farm. The air felt pleasant, and a gentle breeze blew. The two boys found Sancho whittling outside. 

" _Hola,_ Felipe! Sergio!" With a grin, Sancho threw his knife and the block of wood to the ground, and leaped to his feet. 

Don Felipe waved a greeting as he swung off Emilio. He and Sergio tied their horses to the hitching post. 

"Where is everyone?" Don Felipe asked. 

Sancho shrugged. "Papá's gone off with those men, again. Mamá's inside." 

With that, he led the way inside. As always, Señora Sanchez greeted the two visitors warmly and poured each one a cup of goat's milk. 

After Don Felipe had drunk the last of his goat's milk, he strolled toward the doorway and gazed out. "It's so nice outside," he said. 

Suddenly, he frowned. Two horses and one _burro_ appeared over the horizon. "Sancho, your papá's coming home." 

Sancho inhaled sharply. "I hope he's not drunk. He'll be real mean if he is." He made the sign of the cross as he spoke. 

Don Felipe nodded agreement and returned to the rough pine table. His palms grew moist. Minutes later, as Señor Sanchez stumbled inside, Sancho's cup slipped out of his hand. It crashed on the stone-tile floor, and a puddle of milk spread in every direction. 

Swearing, the man strode toward his son and whacked him viciously across the face. "Ow!" Sancho cried, throwing his arms over his face. 

" _Por favor, señor, **don't**_ hit him!" Don Felipe leaped to his feet. "He didn't mean to drop his cup! It slipped out of his hand!" 

Growling, the farmer whirled on Don Felipe. He shoved the boy against the wall with such force, the blow knocked the breath out of him. 

"Don't you tell _me_ how to treat my son!" he roared. "I don't care if you _are_ a young _caballero_ ; I'm master in my own house, and I treat my family how I please! Now, you get out of my hut, and your friend, too!" He glowered at Sergio as he spoke. 

Without another word, Señor Sanchez stormed out of the hut, himself. Sancho wiped the tears off his bruised face with the palms of his hands. " _Gracias,_ Felipe. Thank you for tryin'." 

Don Felipe nodded. He put a hand on Sancho's shoulder. "Sancho, I know what you're going through." He cleared his throat and glanced down at his _charro_ jacket. "My late papá used to treat my late mamá and me the same way. I was afraid of him, because he was violent. My mother was scared of him, too." 

Don Felipe smiled wryly. "He worked hard from dawn to dusk, to support my mamá and me, and when we were in danger, he'd protect us. But he drank all the time, and he was always a tyrant. I never knew what was going to set him off--he could explode over anything. Then he'd yell at us; sometimes, he'd hit us. Papá had a leather strap he used to beat me with; he kept it in the barn. I know what you're going through, Sancho." 

Sancho nodded. Señora Sanchez squeezed Don Felipe's shoulder. "You'd better go, you two, before my husband comes back in." 

"I'll see you again," Sancho assured the boys. 

Don Felipe and Sergio returned to the _hacienda_ , where Don Felipe told his father what had happened. He then went to the family chapel to pray for the Sanchez family. Tears streamed down his face as he prayed. 

That evening, while Don Alejandro and Doña Victoria sat chatting in the drawing room, Don Felipe and his father played a game of chess in the library. Don Felipe won the game. 

His father smiled ruefully. "Your grandfather and I have taught you too well, son." Don Felipe grinned. He knew that, beneath the rueful smile, Don Diego was proud of his son's skill in chess. 

A pounding on the door startled them. Don Alejandro and Doña Victoria leaped from the silk-brocade couch and rushed toward the door. As Don Diego and Don Felipe reached the library entrance, a trembling Señora Sanchez lugged her limp son inside. Sancho lay in her arms, moaning. His face looked bruised and puffy. 

"What the--!" Don Alejandro stared at the boy, white-faced. 

" _Señora!_ What happened?!" Don Diego took the boy from her arms and strode toward the hall. Sergio joined them. 

"Did--did his father beat him?" Don Felipe's voice shook. 

Señora Sanchez nodded. " _Si._ After you and Sergio left, Pedro sat the rest of the afternoon, drinkin' _pulque_. He kept scoldin' Sancho for droppin' his cup this afternoon. Finally, he was roarin' drunk, and he slapped me for not cookin' his supper just like he wanted it. Sancho caught me before I fell and tried to help me sit down on the lower bunk; then his father grabbed him." 

She followed Don Diego into one of the guest bedrooms. "Pedro slapped Sancho again and again, and kept yellin' at him the whole time. Kept sayin', 'How dare you defy me! I'll treat your mother any way I please; I won't have a no-good brat standin' in my way!' Then he got a stick he brought home, yesterday, and he--he hit Sancho with it over and over and over--" She stopped, gasping for breath and choking down a sob. 

Sergio followed them into the bedroom and pulled down the soft bedcovers. Don Diego gently laid the boy on the fine linen undersheet. Sancho moaned as Don Diego removed his sandals while Don Alejandro unbuttoned his cotton shirt. 

"It's all right, _amigo_." Don Diego rested a hand on Sancho's shoulder. "You're in good hands, Sancho. My father and Felipe and Victoria and I will help your mother take good care of you." He gently squeezed Sancho's shoulder. "I know it hurts; I know it feels terrible. But we're going to do everything we can to ease your pain. Just relax. Everything's going to be all right." He brushed Sancho's hair out of his eyes. 

"It hurts." Sancho's voice sounded weak and feeble. "It hurts all over." 

"I know it does." Don Diego rubbed his hand over Sancho's hair. "I know it does." 

Don Alejandro turned to the boy's mother. "Where is your husband, now? And how on earth did you manage to get Sancho here, all by yourself?" 

Señora Sanchez leaned against the wall, shaking. "He's at home, passed out. I didn't dare take Sancho out until he did. I carried my son here, on foot. It took me three hours to bring him here. I had to stop and rest often." 

The de la Vegas gaped at one another for a long moment. Doña Victoria approached Señora Sanchez. "You must be exhausted," she said, gently. "Let me get you a cup of tea and something to eat. You'll need your strength if you're going to nurse your son back to health." 

Señora Sanchez shook her head. " _Gracias, señora_ \--but no. I thank you for takin' my boy in; I don't want him around his father till he's well, but if--if I don't get home immediately, Pedro will--" She shuddered. 

Don Alejandro laid his hand on her shoulder. "If he comes here, I'll confront him and deal with him," he told her. "Your place is with your son--he needs you. If you go home now, Pedro might injure you even worse than he did Sancho. Don't even think of going back there until your son is well enough to return home." 

Señora Sanchez gazed at each de la Vega for a long moment. She nodded. "Thank you. I'll accept." Gratitude shone in her eyes. 

Don Diego smiled at her tenderly. "We'll see about getting you a nightgown, _señora,_ and some changes of clothes. We'll get a nightshirt for Sancho, too." 

"And we'll have our cook make you something to eat." Don Alejandro turned to Don Diego. "We'd better send one of the servants to fetch Dr. Hernandez, son." 

Time passed; no one kept track of it. As the de la Vegas waited, Don Felipe perched on a chair next to Sancho's bedside. Deep pain for his friend warred with his gratitude that for the moment, Sancho and his mother were out of harm's way. 

Dr. Hernandez came to examine Sancho. To everyone's relief, he announced that the boy would recover, bound his wounds, and then left a pain medicine for Sancho to take. 

An hour after the doctor had left, Don Alejandro and his son and grandson sat in the library. Doña Victoria stayed with Señora Sanchez and Sancho. As Don Felipe sat on the satin-brocade couch with his father and stared at the blazing, crackling fire, his heart ached inside. He meant to do all he could for his friend. Not for the first time, as he glanced down at his gold signet ring, he thought that Sergio was better off as an orphan than he would have been with a father like his own and Sancho's. At least, Sergio had consistently been raised by kind people--first the _padres_ , and then the de la Vegas. 

_At least,_ he thought, gazing at Don Diego, _God has given me a better father than I had in the man who sired me. I'm truly blessed. I wish--how I wish that Sancho were!_ Don Felipe gazed at his rosary, wrapped around his left hand. For a moment, he fingered its smooth beads. 

Don Diego smiled at his son and put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You are so dear to me, my son," he said. "You're such a fine young man. I love you so much." 

Don Felipe snuggled against his father and smiled. Don Alejandro nodded agreement as he gazed fondly at his son and grandson for a long moment. 

A second pounding at the front door ended the de la Vegas' reverie. "It's probably Pedro." Don Alejandro pursed his lips tightly. He strode to the door and opened it. 

"Where is my wife and son?" Señor Sanchez's loud voice sounded slurred and angry. 

"Asleep," Don Alejandro said. Approaching the library entrance, Don Diego and Don Felipe found Don Alejandro barricading the front entrance against the farmer who tried to push past the elderly _caballero_. "Your son is badly hurt, _señor_ ; he needs his rest." Don Alejandro planted his feet apart and clutched the polished mahogany door, as Señor Sanchez tried to shove him aside. "He must not be disturbed." 

The man snorted. "I know what you're tryin' to do. You're tryin' to interfere with my business! You're--" 

Don Alejandro snatched the man by the front of his homespun cotton shirt. With the other hand, he gripped Pedro's left arm so tightly the man winced. 

" _Señor,_ you listen to me!" Don Alejandro told him sternly. "Until I say otherwise, your wife and son will remain in my care! Now you go home and don't come back until I say you may! If you try to cause any more trouble, I'll evict you first thing in the morning! Do you hear me?!" He tightened his grip for emphasis. 

Pedro glared at him for a long moment. Without another word, he turned and left. 

With a sigh, Don Alejandro closed the door. "I don't think he'll cause any more trouble. When he's sober, I hope he'll think about what he's done. Men like that--" Don Alejandro scowled and shook his head. 

Sighing, Don Diego glanced at Don Felipe. "Let's go to bed, shall we? Someone will have to fetch Señora Sanchez's clothes from her hut in the morning." The de la Vegas went to their bedrooms. 

The next morning, after breakfast, Señora Sanchez approached Don Felipe, when he and Sergio entered Sancho's bedroom. " _Amigo, por favor,_ do me a favor." She rubbed her hands on her green woolen skirt. 

"Go to my place and fetch some things for me. I couldn't bring my clothes and Sancho, too." 

"Want me to get them, Felipe?" Sergio asked. 

Don Felipe smiled and shook his head. " _Gracias,_ no. _I'll_ do it. Stay here in case Sancho needs you, all right?" Sergio nodded. 

Don Felipe went out to the stables. Minutes later, he galloped Emilio toward the Sanchez farm, sitting tall and straight in the saddle. When he saw the hut in the distance, he saw two men on horseback approaching the farm from the opposite direction. 

Instinct prompted Don Felipe to tug the reins. "Whoa!" he ordered. Emilio halted. 

Don Felipe dismounted. He hid behind a grayish-brown boulder and watched the men approach the hut. One of them climbed off his horse and knocked on the rough pine door. 

The door swung open; Señor Sanchez stood in the doorway, his weather-beaten face unshaven. _"Si?"_ Don Felipe heard him ask. 

"Where's your wife and son? Not back, yet?" 

Señor Sanchez shook his head. "No. And they're not goin' to be, either. Not for a while." 

_He looks sober, now,_ Don Felipe thought. _I wonder if he regrets what he did to Sancho, last night. I hope he does!_ The boy clenched his fists and scowled. 

The two men spoke so low, Don Felipe couldn't hear their words. Señor Sanchez nodded and disappeared; a few seconds later, he reappeared, wearing his wide-brimmed straw _sombrero_. While Don Felipe hid behind the boulder and watched, Señor Sanchez saddled his _burro_. A moment later, he rode off with the two men. 

_Where are they going?_ Don Felipe wondered. _I'd better follow them and find out. Those men are bad news. I can feel it._ He shook his head. _There may be work for the_ alcalde _\--and for Zorro!_

Glancing briefly at his signet ring, the boy climbed back on his Andalusian stallion. For the next several miles, he followed the three men from a distance, careful not to let them see him. All the while, Don Felipe feared for Pedro's family. If these friends of Pedro Sanchez were, in fact, _bandidos,_ as Don Felipe suspected, Sancho and his mother could be in danger. 

An hour after they had started out, the men stopped; so did Don Felipe. He dismounted Emilio and moved the horse behind a hill. 

As he climbed that hill, a twig snapped under his boot. He froze, then ducked behind a bush. 

"Hey!" one of the men shouted. "What was that?" 

Felipe crouched behind the bush and held his breath. Silently, he prayed that the men would not find him. 

A long moment passed while the boy knelt, not daring to move. Would the men search the hill? 

"It must have been some animal," one of the men said. "There's lots of them on the desert. We don't have time to waste, so let's get movin'." 

Don Felipe leaned against the bush, weak with relief. Years of spying for Zorro had taught him the importance of blending into the background when trailing _bandidos_ ; failure to do so had severe consequences, as he had learned from hard experience. Once, a gang of bandits plotting to murder the _alcalde_ had kidnapped him because he had stepped on a twig and given his presence away. Another time, another gang of bandits who had murdered the Monterey coach driver had stalked him when he knocked a rock down a ridge, betraying his presence. And more recently, when an assassin had kidnapped the Duke of La Mancha's grandson, Don Rodrigo, the assassin had discovered Felipe trailing him and his prisoner, and kidnapped the boy. 

Don Felipe rose to his feet. He mounted Emilio and followed the men from a distance, once more. 

Ten minutes later, the men stopped again, and so did Don Felipe. He dismounted once again, hid behind a ridge, and waited. As he watched, a _caballero_ on a white stallion rode toward the three men. 

_"Excelente!"_ the gentleman said, in a voice Don Felipe instantly recognized. "You brought him. Good work, men!" 

The voice sounded exactly like that of Los Angeles's former _alcalde_ , Don Luis Ramon's! Yet, Don Felipe knew it couldn't be. Don Luis Ramon had fallen to his death at the Devil's Fortress, two years before. 

And that meant only one thing-- 

_Don Vincente Ramon!_ Don Felipe thought, horrified. _Luis Ramon's twin brother--the one who tried to impersonate him! I remember him! Why is he here? What is he up to?_

"Señor Sanchez," Don Vincente said, "early this morning, my men and I made a decision. Last night, when we visited you and you told us how bitter you felt toward your family and how they had wronged you, I told you I would help you." 

Señor Sanchez looked at him warily. "I moved my wife and son here because your men told me they could make us rich. Can they?" Señor Ramon nodded. "How?" 

Don Vincente gazed at him for a long moment. "By becoming a member of my gang. Robbing banks, _haciendas_ , you name it, all over the territory. That will make us all very rich, _señor_." 

The man froze, then fidgeted. "I--I see." He furrowed his eyebrows as he spoke. 

_Good,_ Don Felipe thought. _He doesn't really want to become rich that way. I'm glad to see that. Perhaps, there is good in Pedro Sanchez, after all._

Señor Ramon looked at Señor Sanchez sternly. "There's just one condition, _señor_ ; if you agree to it, the job is yours. I'm willing to make _you_ rich, but _not_ your wife and son. You must kill them--they'll just be in the way if you let them live. Since you feel such bitterness and resentment toward them, and don't really love them, I'm sure you won't object." 

Señor Sanchez froze a second time; Don Felipe caught his breath in horror. For a long moment, the farmer gaped at the bandit leader. 

"You're not serious?!" he exclaimed. "Me murder my own family in--in cold blood?! I will not! I want to make my family rich, too--not just me! If I said I didn't love them, I must have been stone-drunk." 

Don Vincente glared at Señor Sanchez for a long moment. "Seize him!" he ordered, whipping a pistol out of a holster. 

The other two bandits grabbed the farmer's arms and tied them behind his back. "Take him to Chielo Ridge!" Don Vincente ordered. "Hold him there till I get back! Since he won't kill them himself, I will. If they're not back at the farm by now--if they're still at the de la Vega _hacienda_ \--I'll go there and kill the de la Vegas, too!" 

"How long will it take you to get back, _patrón_?" one of the bandits asked. 

Don Vincente glanced down at his timepiece. "It's ten o' clock, now. It'll take two hours to reach the Sanchez farm. If I go to the de la Vega _hacienda_ afterward, it'll take me another half-hour to get there. I'll be at Chielo Ridge in eight hours." 

"No!" Señor Sanchez cried, as the _caballero_ mounted his horse. "Not my family! Kill me if you must, but don't kill them! Oh, _Santa Maria,_ what have I _done_?!" 

Don Felipe ducked his head as Señor Ramon rode past. The boy had heard enough. He made up his mind to tell his father right away. He glanced down at his jacket, then looked at his gold timepiece. It gleamed in the sunlight. 

_Ten o' clock,_ he thought. _I have just two hours--two and a half, at the most--to get home. I'd better hurry!_

He mounted Emilio and dug his heels into the stallion's sides. The horse galloped toward home. Don Felipe prayed silently that he would get there in time. 

_Please, God,_ he prayed, _don't let me be too late!_

Several times, he stopped to look at his timepiece. Time was passing more rapidly than Don Felipe liked. If he didn't get to the de la Vega _hacienda_ quickly, it would be too late. 

At last, Don Felipe reached the _hacienda_. He handed the reins to a stable boy, then glanced down at his timepiece. _Twelve o' clock,_ he thought. I made it! Gracias de Dios; _I made it!_ He patted Emilio's neck. _But for such a fast horse like Emilio, I never would have made it in time! Parche would have been too slow._

He raced into the entrance hall. "Father!" he shouted. 

"In here, son!" Don Diego called. 

Don Felipe darted into the library, where he found his parents and grandfather reading. Leaning against a bookshelf and gasping for breath, Don Felipe explained what he had seen and heard. The others leaped to their feet as he spoke, looking pale. 

When Don Felipe had finished, Don Diego looked grim. "Zorro rides." 

"I'll tell the grooms to saddle Toronado and Dulcinea while you put on your costume, son." Don Alejandro strode toward the library entrance, where he paused to speak. "Then I'll go to town and order out the garrison. I'll send half my troops to this house to guard it, and to protect Señora Sanchez and Sancho." 

"Father, is there anything I can do?" Don Felipe asked. 

Don Diego shook his head. "You've already done it, my son. Thank you. Stay here and prime the pistols and muskets, just in case they're needed. I'll tell Sergio to help you. Time is of the essence." 

Don Felipe nodded. His father entered the secret passage. 

As Zorro rode toward Chielo Ridge, he prayed that no harm would befall his family or the Sanchezes in his absence. 

_My father's a wise commander and a brave fighter,_ he thought. _He'll do all he can to protect the_ señora _and her son._

When he reached Chielo Ridge, he slowed Toronado down. He did not want to give his presence away if he could help it. He slowly rode past the ridge, searching for caves. Toronado's hooves _clop!_ clopped on the stone ground. 

Suddenly, he saw two horses and a _burro_ standing before a narrow cave opening. _This must be it!_ he thought. 

Zorro dismounted Toronado and patted the stallion's shoulder. The masked man unsheathed his Toledo-steel saber and tiptoed toward the entrance. For a moment, he halted next to the mouth of the cave to listen. The voices of three men drifted toward his ears. 

"You'll never escape us, _señor_!" a man said. "When your wife and son's dead, you'll have nothin' to go back to. Nothin' to hold you back. You can't escape us." 

Zorro sprang inside. "You are truly brave men!" he announced. "It only takes _two_ of you to guard _one_ unarmed farmer!" 

The bandits leaped to their feet and gaped at him. 

"Zorro!" One of the bandits unsheathed his rapier. "We're brave enough for _**you** , señor_!" 

"I'm sure you are!" Zorro raised his saber in a salute. "But are you _skilled_ enough?" 

For the next ten minutes, Zorro fenced with the two _bandidos_ as Señor Sanchez watched. Zorro and the bandits thrusted, lunged, and parried; their swords clanged continually. One by one, Zorro sent the rapiers flying out of their hands and knocked the bandits out. He carved a Z in the trousers of each man. 

Zorro helped Señor Sanchez to his feet and untied his hands. _"Gracias, señor,"_ the shamefaced farmer muttered, looking at the cave floor. "My wife and son are in danger. _Por favor,_ save them!" He bent over and grabbed his straw _sombrero_ with a trembling hand, as he spoke. 

"I will," Zorro promised him. "But first, we must tie up these _bandidos_ so they won't make any more mischief." 

Minutes later, Zorro and Señor Sanchez led the horses carrying the two bandits, bound hand and foot. Three hours after leaving Chielo Ridge, they arrived at the de la Vega _hacienda_. Don Alejandro met them as they dismounted. 

"Vincente Ramon is dead," he told them. "My lancers shot him as he tried to break into the _hacienda_ , almost three hours ago." 

"Where's his body?" Zorro asked. 

"My lancers have taken his body to Los Angeles." Don Alejandro looked hard at Señor Sanchez. " _Señor,_ you are one fortunate man--more fortunate than you deserve to be." He gestured toward Don Felipe, who stood in the doorway. "If it hadn't been for my grandson, Felipe--and for Zorro, here--it would be your wife and son now being prepared for burial, not the bandit leader." 

Señor Sanchez accepted the rebuke silently. "Where's my family?" 

"In one of the guest rooms. Your son's in no condition to travel. Dr. Hernandez has strictly forbidden that, for the present." 

Señor Sanchez nodded. " _Si, señor._ I'd like to see them." 

Don Alejandro nodded his consent. "You will, soon. First, Zorro and I must take these bandits to town. Please stay in the drawing room with Don Felipe and Sergio and Doña Victoria, until we return." 

_"Si, señor."_ As the two men left with their prisoners, Señor Sanchez removed his _sombrero_ and bowed. Don Felipe invited him inside and led the way into the drawing room, where Doña Victoria and Sergio waited. 

Doña Victoria turned to Sergio. "Would you tell Maria to send us some juice? Señor Sanchez must be thirsty after that long ride." 

_"Si, señora."_ Sergio trotted to the kitchen, his sandals clicking on the gleaming marble floor. Doña Victoria invited Pedro to sit down. 

Moments later, a maid brought three crystal glasses of lemonade on a gleaming, ornate silver tray. After Don Felipe took his glass, he sat down next to the farmer on the couch and glanced down at his satin vest. " _Señor,_ your permission, I'd like to tell you a story. About my late papá, Juan Cortez. He was a _peon_ in Mexico, as I've told you. He barely eked out a living from a small plot of land he rented. He was a tenant farmer, like you. A _peon_." 

"Oh." Señor Sanchez regarded the boy warily through bloodshot eyes, as Felipe sipped his lemonade. "What was he like?" The farmer gulped a mouthful of the juice. "What's this, _señora_?" 

"Lemonade," Doña Victoria told him. "It's sold at the tavern, too." She glanced at her son and folded her hands in her lap. "Go on, Felipe." 

Don Felipe took another sip of lemonade. Leaning back, he chose his words carefully. "Well, he was a hard worker, and a good one. He worked very hard to support my mamá and me. He did his best to keep us safe, too. When danger threatened, as it sometimes did, he'd protect us." The boy paused. "And yet--and yet, he was hard to live with. My mother and I feared him and resented him." 

"Why?" 

"Because he was a tyrant and a boor and a drunkard. He had a violent temper; he was grumpy and nervous and ill-mannered. He drank too much _pulque_ , and he didn't really love us. At least, we never felt that he did. He hit us a lot--much of the time, for no good reason." 

For the next 15 minutes, Don Felipe told the man stories of his late father's temper and tyranny, and the clashes those two traits had caused with Felipe and his mother. He explained some of the occasions his father had struck his face and/or beaten him with a leather strap because he had dropped, spilled, or broken something. Or because Felipe had either forgotten to do some chore, or had failed to do his chores to his father's satisfaction. Or because when Juan had accused Felipe of doing something he hadn't done. As the boy spoke, Señor Sanchez listened, clenching and unclenching his callused hands. 

"Once, when I was four years old, my father hurt me so badly, I nearly died afterwards," Don Felipe said. "He thought I had taken his _pulque_ and hidden it, so he tried to beat a confession out of me. I hadn't taken it, of course--I didn't even like _pulque_ \--but it did no good to tell him that. Instead, my telling my father the truth earned me a beating so severe, I was in a coma for three days afterward. When I finally came to, I was delirious with fever for days and days, and it was weeks before I recovered." He grimaced. "And he never even apologized! Or acted as if he was sorry. He just said, afterward, that if I'd told him the truth, he wouldn't have had to hit me." He pressed his lips tightly and clenched his own fists as he spoke. Doña Victoria winced and shook her head. 

Pausing, Don Felipe leaned toward Señor Sanchez. " _Señor,_ your son is badly hurt because you let your temper get the better of you. Your wife brought him here because he wasn't safe around you. If you keep on treating your family this way, you'll alienate them altogether. They might even decide to flee the territory, lest you end up killing them. That would not be good, would it?" Pedro grimaced, but did not respond. 

"And even if they don't run away, Sancho's memories of you, when you're dead, will hurt. As my own memories of Papá do, to this day. Sancho'll always remember you as the father who treated him badly, who hurt him time and again, who was never there when he needed you, and who frightened him so much that he was afraid to be around you. Is that how you want your son to remember you, Señor Sanchez?" 

The farmer sighed. "No," he whispered. "I don't." 

"Good." Don Felipe looked at him beseechingly for a long moment. "Sancho needs a father, _señor_ \--a father he can love and respect and look up to. And remember with fondness, when you're gone. And your wife needs a husband she can love and be proud of. They both need you to be someone they can please and make happy--as you are, now, you're impossible to please! Most importantly, they need you to be sober. Because you lose all control when you get drunk, as you did last night." 

Señor Sanchez leaned over and put his head in his hands. For a long moment, he sat in that position, motionless. When he lifted his head, his unshaven face was streaked with tears. 

"You're right, _muchacho_." His voice sounded husky. "I haven't been much of a husband or father, have I? Not only have I hurt my own son, as you said--and my wife, too--my greed almost killed them both." He sighed. "And you're right about the _pulque_. I do lose it when I drink that stuff. I don't even remember beatin' Sancho with a stick, last night, but I know I did." 

Doña Victoria smiled. "Did the lemonade taste good, _señor_?" 

Señor Sanchez nodded. " _Si, señora._ It was delicious." 

"You should start drinking lemonade, Señor Sanchez. That won't cause you to lose control." The farmer nodded. 

The front door clicked open; Don Diego and Don Alejandro entered the drawing room. "The _bandidos_ are in jail, and Don Vincente's body has been prepared for burial. A coffin is being built, right now." Don Alejandro looked at Señor Sanchez. "Are you ready to see your family?" 

_"Si, señor."_ The farmer rose to his feet and picked up his _sombrero_. 

As Don Alejandro led the way toward Sancho's guest room, the other de la Vegas and Señor Sanchez followed. Don Alejandro entered the bedroom. "Señora Sanchez, Sancho, you've got a visitor." 

"Who?" Señora Sanchez asked. 

Pedro entered the room, clutching the straw _sombrero_. " _Hola,_ Maria. _Hola,_ Sancho," he said, softly. 

Don Felipe stood by the doorway and listened. "Sancho, I owe you a big apology." Señor Sanchez's voice sounded husky again. "I hurt you last night, when I was drunk." The man paused. "Fact is, I've hurt you both, time and again, all these years. Worse, my greed nearly got you killed, today. I--I'm so sorry." 

Another pause. "I've got a lot to make up for, I know. I pray that--that you'll be willin' to let me do that." 

Don Felipe listened. Señora Sanchez choked down a sob. "Oh, Pedro--it means so much to hear you say that!" 

"I--I love you, Papá," Sancho said feebly. 

Now, it was Don Felipe's turn to choke down a sob. He tiptoed down the corridor and leaned against the wall. 

"Are you all right, my son?" Don Diego stepped beside him and squeezed the boy's shoulder. Don Felipe leaned against his father's chest; for a moment, Don Diego hugged him tightly and patted his back. 

"You and Sancho have a lot in common, don't you?" Don Diego said, at last. "The tragic difference is, your father never learned in time to be the husband and father you and your mother needed him to be. Pedro Sanchez now has that chance." 

Don Felipe nodded. Don Diego was right. For a long moment, he pictured himself making the same speech to his own late father that he had made to Pedro Sanchez moments earlier. 

He smiled to himself. _Seeing Pedro Sanchez humble himself the way he's doing, now--it's like seeing my late papá doing the same thing. Making peace with my mamá and me._ He paused and thought it over. _It--it feels as if he has! I've never felt so calm and at peace, before._

In that instant, Don Felipe realized that, at long last, he had made peace with his memories of Juan. A healing had taken place inside the boy's heart that made it possible for him to forgive his late father and maybe even love him. 

_My papá was messed up inside,_ he realized. _He didn't know how to love, that was his problem. He didn't know how to give love or receive it. Maybe--maybe his own father wasn't very good to him or his mother._ For a moment, Don Felipe pondered that possibility. 

_My adoptive father's right--Juan Cortez never had a chance to learn differently. He died before he could get that chance._ Don Felipe winced. _If it hadn't been for a crisis that forced Señor Sanchez to realize how important his family is to him,_ he _might never had learned differently, either!_

He looked at Don Diego, who drew the boy to his side and put his arm around his son's shoulders. "Are you all right?" he whispered. 

Don Felipe smiled and nodded. "I am, now." 

Relief spread over the tall _caballero's_ face. "I'm _so_ glad!" He gently hugged his son for a long moment. The hug felt so good. 

"I told you that if you used your empathy for the good of the poor, you'd be able to help them in a way no one else could. With this family, my son, you've done just that. I'm _so_ proud of you!" Don Felipe smiled his appreciation of the praise as he burrowed his face into his father's shoulder. 

_Don Diego is my father,_ he thought. _And he has what my late papá never had--the ability to give and receive love and approval. From now on, I'll seek the fatherly love I crave from him. He'll never fail to give it._ The boy leaned back and wiped his face with his linen handkerchief. 

Don Alejandro approached them. "I've just invited Señor Sanchez to stay here with his family until Sancho's well enough to go home." He smiled. "And he's granted me permission to invite Padre Benitez to come here and visit him. If anyone can help Pedro Sanchez, it's the good _padre_." 

Don Diego and Don Felipe smiled at each other. "Just hearing that he's receptive to seeing a priest is a good sign, Father," Don Diego said. 

"It certainly is." Don Felipe smiled. "A _caballero_ can do a lot of good, can't he?" 

"He certainly can!" Don Alejandro squeezed his grandson's shoulder and smiled at the boy proudly. Don Diego nodded agreement. Don Felipe looked down at his signet ring, then glanced at his _charro_ jacket. Life felt so good!


	4. Epilogue

"Diego!" Don Alejandro strode into the library, where his son and his 18-year-old grandson waited impatiently. "You have two beautiful baby girls! Twins! You have two sisters, Felipe!" 

Don Diego and Don Felipe leaped to their feet, joy transfixing their faces. Behind them, a crackling fire blazed merrily in the fireplace. Outside, a February downpour pounded the desert. 

A year had passed since the Sanchez family had stayed at the de la Vega _hacienda_. Since that fateful visit, Pedro Sanchez had been a changed man. He now went to church regularly and prayed with his rosary every night. He never drank, anymore. Sancho often told Don Felipe and Sergio that, even though Señor Sanchez was still strict, he was now so gentle and kind and loving, it felt as if Sancho had a new father. The news pleased the de la Vegas greatly. 

Sergio, now 14, served Don Felipe faithfully and well. He had recently graduated from the foil to the epee, and Don Felipe was making good progress in learning to use the saber. The two boys had a strong bond. Rafael had become a skilled farmer, and prided himself on the quality of the cattle and horses he bred. His dream was to become a rich landowner, eventually. In March, Don Alejandro had moved to the _cuartel_ , and Don Diego and Doña Victoria had moved into Don Alejandro's old quarters. Don Diego had since been in full charge of the ranch. 

Doña Victoria, pregnant since the previous May, had gone into labor the night before. Twenty-seven hours had since passed. Because she had been having problems with her pregnancy and then had had difficulty with her labor, Dr. Hernandez had come to deliver the baby. 

As Don Diego and his son gazed at Don Alejandro, the elderly _caballero_ looked sad. "Is something wrong, Father?" Worry clouded Don Diego's face. 

Don Alejandro nodded. "I'm afraid so, son." He paused, leaning against the black shelves. "Your new daughters are healthy and well-formed; that's the good news. The bad news is, you won't be fathering any more children." Don Diego and Don Felipe froze, stricken. 

Don Alejandro shook his head. "Victoria had so much trouble giving birth, Dr. Hernandez was forced to remove her womb to save her life. She'll never be able to have another child. She's awake now, but she's quite weak; Dr. Hernandez had to put her to sleep this morning, with the ether. It'll be a few weeks before she's strong enough to resume her normal activities." 

Don Diego took a deep breath as he fought to contain the disappointment evident on his face. He then looked at his son and smiled bravely. "Then we were wise to adopt _this_ young man, weren't we, Father? Otherwise, Victoria and I would have been deprived of sons." Don Alejandro nodded agreement. 

Don Diego paused a moment, then a genuine smile spread across his face. "And now, my son, let's see these new sisters of yours!" Grinning broadly, Don Felipe nodded. 

In the bedroom that Don Diego and Doña Victoria shared, Doña Victoria sat propped up by pillows. Dr. Hernandez, Francisco, Ramon, and the de la Vegas' new nanny, hired recently by Don Diego, stood by the bed; the new _niñera_ , recently hired by Don Diego, leaned against the wall. Victoria smiled weakly as her husband, son, and father-in-law approached. Two babies lay in her arms. 

"Be quiet," Dr. Hernandez warned. "The new mother's weak and exhausted from her ordeal, and she needs her sleep. So do the babies." 

Doña Victoria nodded her acquiescence, then smiled at her husband and son. "Aren't they beautiful, Diego?" Her voice sounded feeble. 

"They certainly are." Don Diego's face shone with joy as he sat perched on the edge of the bed and gazed at his new daughters. "They're so tiny," he marveled. Inside, Don Felipe agreed. 

Doña Victoria beckoned to the boy. "Come closer, my son. Look at your new sisters!" 

Don Felipe leaned over the side of the bed and ran his palm over each baby's silky-soft head. "What are their names, Mother?" 

"The black-haired girl, we're calling Ana." Doña Victoria rested her hand on the baby's shoulder. "And the little girl with the brown hair, we've named Dolores, after Don Sebastian's daughter. Hold one of them!" 

Don Felipe picked up Dolores. He cuddled the baby in his arms and gazed at his new sister for a long moment. "They're so beautiful," he said, looking from Dolores to Ana. 

After Don Felipe laid Dolores down in the crook of his mother's left arm, he swallowed. "Are you sorry that God didn't give you a daughter and a son? Instead of two daughters?" 

Don Diego touched his arm. "He did give us a son, Felipe. You. The good Lord has given Victoria and me a fine son and two beautiful daughters. I'd say we're truly blessed." 

"And I'd say you're right, Diego," Victoria added, smiling affectionately at her adoptive son. Don Felipe smiled gratefully as his father gently squeezed his arm. 

"I--I just wish I could be here to watch them grow up." Don Felipe bent down to kiss Dolores and pat Ana. "Instead of going to the university." 

Don Diego's old tutor, Jonathan Spencer, had taken over Don Felipe's education the previous April. Don Felipe's father still taught his son law and the physical sciences, as well as art, music, and swordsmanship, but the elderly English gentleman taught the boy everything else. Don Diego himself had become a lawyer, the previous summer, and he had since built a flourishing law practice. Señor Spencer and Don Diego were preparing Don Felipe for the entrance exams at Madrid University. Don Felipe was slated to go when he turned twenty-one. Until that time came, he would continue to perform a farm task once a week for a two-hour stretch, as he had done until then. 

In the meantime, Don Felipe and his mother each tutored groups of the servants' children in reading, once a week. Don Felipe also tutored Sancho, separately. He intended to have his students proficient in the basics of reading, writing, spelling, and arithmetic before he left for Madrid. Hopefully, they would be able to go to the mission school afterward. 

"I know, son." Don Diego smiled at the boy sympathetically. "I felt the same way when I went to Madrid, 11 years ago, because I wouldn't have the pleasure of watching you grow into young manhood." 

"You'll be here for the next three years, Felipe." Don Alejandro put an arm around his grandson's shoulders. "You'll get to enjoy your new sisters until they're three years old. And when you leave, we'll write to you every month, just as you and I did your father. And we'll keep you posted about your sisters' growth." 

Don Felipe nodded and looked down at his signet ring. It had to be, he knew. As a de la Vega, he had no choice. _They want what's best for me,_ he reminded himself. _That's why they're sending me to Madrid._

"Felipe, my son, remember the day you wanted to join the army?" Don Diego reminded him. Don Felipe nodded, remembering. "You wanted to see the world, you told me." 

Don Felipe grimaced. " _Si,_ I did. I also remember that you didn't want me to. That was the day I saw the murder of the Monterey coach driver--the day the killers came after me." 

"It certainly was." Don Diego hugged the young man to his side. "And no, I didn't want you to become a soldier, because I wanted more for you than that. And I still do." The _caballero_ smiled. "I also want you to have a chance to see the world. Every young man deserves a chance to do that, and you shall get yours when you go to Madrid University. You'll learn everything in the books there, make new friends, and improve your swordsmanship skills." 

"And don't forget, my boy, you'll go on a Grand Tour of Europe, afterward," Don Alejandro reminded him, inserting his thumbs into his vest pockets. "For two or three years, you'll have an opportunity to travel all over Europe and see all the sights. You'll get to visit London, Paris, Rome, Vienna, Berlin, you name it. When you return from Europe, you'll spend a year or two in Mexico City. Then you'll come back to Los Angeles and become a lawyer like your father, here, and you'll have so much to tell your sisters!" 

"My own children, too, I hope." Don Felipe gazed at the babies again. "I want to marry Dolores Valverdi, you know." 

The other de la Vegas smiled. They did know. Señorita Dolores Valverdi was the only daughter of the late Don Sebastian Valverdi, and she was beautiful, smart, well-bred, gentle, and shy. She and Don Felipe had been in love for the past two years. 

"I hope I'll be a good lawyer like you, Father." 

"Don't you worry about that, Felipe." Don Alejandro smiled. "With your own father to go into partnership with, you won't fail to." 

"I'll see to that," Don Diego added. "Together, my son, we'll see that all who come to us get justice. How does this sound, Felipe: 'De la Vega and Son'?" Don Felipe grinned at the thought. 

The young _caballero_ leaned against his father. Inside, he felt so happy and content. He had everything, now--a loving mother and father, a wonderful grandfather, two uncles, cousins in Santa Barbara (Don Rafael and Doña Margarita had three young children, now), great friends, and now, two baby sisters. And great wealth and position such as he had never dreamed of, when he had been a Cortez. 

_And people to show me how to use it well,_ he thought, gazing down at his signet ring. _As God wants me to do._

With a smile, the boy glanced down at his _charro_ jacket. He had _so_ much to look forward to! Someday, like his father and grandfather, he would attend Madrid University, only _he_ would study law. After his graduation, he would go on a Grand Tour, and then spend a year or two in Mexico City. Then he would return to Los Angeles and devote his life to public service, and to being a good _patrón_ and landlord and lawyer. 

And if the good Lord was willing, he would marry Dolores and pass on the de la Vega name through his own sons and daughters (with God's help, he would be a good husband and father). And one day, when his time came to die, he would bequeath his rosary to his eldest child, as his late mother Consuela had told him to do. Truly, Don Felipe was blessed. He bent down and kissed Ana's soft cheek, as she gurgled, before the _niñera_ stepped forward to take the babies from their exhausted mother.   
  
  


**The End**


End file.
